Romeo, Romeo
by Kaoru2.50
Summary: A week has passed. The play is over, the war between the houses is resolved, and things at Hogwarts have returned to normal. Well, mostly... HPDM,some DTSF
1. Chapter 1

A/N: For my own amusement, I want to toy with a cliché

**A/N: For my own amusement, I want to toy with a cliché! This probably won't follow too closely with the books, as they're still in school, and it's my usual slash. I'm also downplaying Voldemort, so he won't be making any appearances. If this is all good, read on!**

**Disclaimer: Simply apply this to any following chapters, because I don't own any of it. **

**Romeo, Romeo…**

Chapter 1

Laughter echoed from the back of the room, rising above the murmurs and conversations that flowed through the air. In one corner, the crack of small fireworks, purchased on the Weasley twins' not-so-secret black market, inspired awes of delight from gathered first years, followed quickly by demands for orders, all of which Lee Jordon jotted down with his new quill. Near the fireplace, Ron laughed victoriously and stuck out his hand to Dean Thomas. The other boy shook his head and dropped a few sickles into the outstretched hand. Refusing to accept defeat, even when years of experience attested to Ron's unnatural skill at wizards' chess, Dean challenged the teen to yet another rematch. Hermione, seated comfortably in her usual chair, rolled her eyes and returned to her book.

In all, it a normal night in the Gryffindor common room, down to the chorus of 'hellos' as Harry stepped through the portrait hole. There was a slight difference though, an excitement in the air that was almost tangible, though Harry couldn't quite put his finger on it. Walking through the cliques and huddles to his friends, Harry realized that most of the conversation centered on a single topic. Hermione nodded up at him when he reached his goal, and Ron greeted him cheerfully. Dean was completely focused on the chessboard, contemplating his next move, though Harry and the rest of Gryffindor knew it would be no use, so the brunet didn't hold it against him when Dean didn't so much as acknowledge his presence.

Wondering about the conversations, Harry opened his mouth to ask Hermione, the only person in his circle of friends likely to have been paying enough attention to school to know, about the rumors. The question hadn't reached his lips when Seamus came bounding through the room, slapping Harry on the shoulder, perhaps a bit harder than intended in his excitement. "Heard the news, Harry?" he asked in his usual bubbly tone, his accent adding a soft lilt to the words that seemed so out of place with the rest of the Irish boy. Explosions and smoke were more his style after all. "A play! The first ever at Hogwarts!"

Harry laughed. Seamus' excitement was always contagious. "So I hear," he confirmed.

Hermione, though rarely interested in a conversation involving extracurricular activities, closed her book and set it aside, shocking Ron enough to spoil his game plan and his knight was quickly claimed by a gleeful Dean. Hermione never put her book down for idle chit-chat. "What's more," she positively gushed, "I hear it's going to be 'Romeo and Juliet'." She sighed deeply. "It's horribly romantic."

Seamus nodded enthusiastically. "I'm trying out!" he exclaimed and pantomimed a sword fight. "I bite my tongue at you, sir!" he said and did so before collapsing into a fit of giggles.

Harry stared at him blankly. "How do _you_ know about 'Romeo and Juliet'?" he questioned. Hermione looked expectantly at the wizard, obviously curious as well.

Seamus straightened himself to his full height, an unimpressive five foot one, and said seriously, "I am a connoisseur of all things tragically romantic!"

"He lost a bet to Lavender," Dean put in as he pushed his queen cautiously forward, keeping his finger on it as he examined the board. "He had to read it and act a scene, one-manned and from memory, to satisfy the terms."

"Blabbermouth," Seamus muttered as Harry and Hermione stifled their laughs.

"I don't get it," Ron said, moving his king with barely a glance at the board. "Checkmate," he tossed off and Dean groaned before handing over the last of his money. "Who're Roy and Julie?"

"Honestly, Ron," Hermione said, exasperation seeping into her voice. "You have no sense of culture, do you? 'Romeo and Juliet' is the most tragic and romantic play in the history of the world." She launched into a detailed description of the plot, not seeming to notice that Ron's eyes glazed over.

"So, Harry," Seamus said, in the tone that usually meant he was asking for something. It was the same tone that the boy had used when he asked to borrow Harry's comb for an experiment and had returned it as a smoking pile of burnt plastic with, for some inexplicable reason, a handful of bright yellow feathers sticking out at odd angles. He'd sworn to replace it, but Harry's unruly hair was a testament to its continued absence. "Will you be joining us for the auditions?"

It was on the tip of his tongue to say no. He actually got the 'n' sound out of his mouth, when he mad the mistake of looking at the Irish boy. Seamus was a master of silent begging, and his famed 'puppy dog' look had never failed, even against the great Professor Snape. Harry was, of course, no such master of control and crumbled easily in the face of Seamus' wide-eyed look of hope. "Sure," he sighed, though he knew his talents did not extend to the realm of theater.

Colin Creevey, never far from Harry on a good day, chose that moment to leap forward, snapping yet another picture of the Golden Boy for his already vast collection. "Amazing, Harry!" he exclaimed as Harry, dazed from the flash, blinked repeatedly and rubbed at his eyes. "You can do everything, huh?"

It never failed to amaze Harry that, in the four years since his arrival, Colin still had not lost his hero-worship. Rumors abounded that the boy, still small and big-eyed, had a shrine set up for the boy-who-lived somewhere on the grounds. Harry gave his usual response, "Hello, Colin," before turning and trying to make his way to the dorm, a task made difficult by the fact that bright white spots floated across his vision.

"Hello, Harry!" was the only warning he got before another flash blinded him and Dennis Creevey ran off to join his brother, probably for another debate on the color of Harry's boxers. According to Fred and George, the two boys had a running poll, with most participants voting on blue, though Harry was of the belief that it was only another of the twins' jokes.

He couldn't see anything of the crowded common room, so Harry stuck out his hands on either side, reaching for Seamus. Blindness worked against him and he grabbed something else, softer that his friend's shoulder for certain, even if it was at the same height. A shriek rang through his ears and someone slapped him, hard, across the cheek. Laughter rose up around him and he sighed, even as he felt a hand that he prayed belonged to Seamus grab his and lead him through the room.

Taken together- flashing eyes, ringing ears, stinging cheek and the beginnings of one hell of a migraine- Harry didn't have to be Trelawney to spot a bad omen when it hit him over the head.

"Lavender Brown!" he heard Seamus laughing near him, and tripped over the first step, before slowly making his way up. "I didn't know you had it in you!" The Irish boy laughed again as the noise from the common room faded and Harry could hear his bedroom door open. His vision was returning to normal and the first thing he saw was his friend's laughing face. "Serves her right for making that stupid bet! I knew it would come back to get her," Seamus said smugly and he slapped Harry on the back again, this time in gratitude.

**A/N: Ok, that's it for now, so let me know what you think. Please and thank you!**


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: And the story goes on

**A/N: And the story goes on… heh.**

**Romeo, Romeo…**

Harry stuck his head cautiously around the corner of the door, peeking at the crowd gathered in the Great Hall. He was slightly surprised by the size. "Why are there so many people?" he muttered to Seamus between clenched teeth, an attempt to keep his roiling stomach in check.

Seamus shrugged. "How would I know?" he replied and grabbed Harry's sleeve to pull the other boy into the room. Students stood alone or in small groups and Harry caught bits of conversation as they passed. The general air of excitement was obvious as the students recited lines from the play, with varying degrees of success. Seamus, much to Harry's dismay, passed these groups and dragged him right up front, only inches from the teachers' dais, before turning away to talk to a blonde boy on his left.

Harry shook his head and turned away. A part of him, well, most of him, wanted nothing more than to leave and not look back. Damn Seamus and his puppy dog eyes anyway! He was so deep in thought that Harry didn't realize he'd been staring at the chest in front of him until he'd already pissed off its owner, and a dry voice asked, "I know that you're not used to it, but Potter, really. My shirt isn't _that_ clean."

Harry rolled his eyes and glared up. There was nothing like a good dose of Malfoy's constant ill-humor to sour a day. And if your day was already going badly, it was proof that things could, in fact, get worse. "Malfoy," Harry said with his usual venom before curiosity prompted him to ask, "What are you doing here?"

Malfoy looked down his nose at him and sneered, "I should think that was obvious." Harry grit his teeth. This was why they could never have a decent conversation. Malfoy was always so condescending! "I'm trying out for the play," the other boy finished.

"I can see that," Harry said, not bothering to hide his irritation. "Why are you trying out?"

Malfoy shrugged casually. "Believe it or not, Potter, I do enjoy theatre, and I happen to be rather good at acting."

"You'd have to be to hang out with Deatheaters on a regular basis," Harry remarked, keeping his voice low so he would hardly be heard over the din of the crowd.

He felt rather than saw the glare that Malfoy leveled at him, and long moments passed in silence before the blond finally replied. "Yes, that is a convenient skill. For example, right now, I'm acting as if I don't want to toss your disemboweled carcass to the giant squid."

Harry looked over, studying the other boy quietly. "You're not a very good actor, after all," he commented calmly, not the slightest cowed. He could see Malfoy's eyes widen slightly. Then came the small twitch, at the corner of his lips, followed by another.

Harry couldn't believe it. Malfoy was fighting back a smile. From something he'd said! Apparently losing the war with his humor, Malfoy spun on his heel and walked away just as Professor Trelawney glided into the room, Professor Binns only feet behind. Harry wondered why he was surprised that she was involved. Trelawney did have a flair for the melodramatic.

"Welcome," the woman said airily and scanned the room. Harry knew when her owl-eyes landed on him, he could feel it, and grimaced. "Mr. Potter!" she exclaimed. "You will, of course be playing the role of Romeo."

"What?!" Harry cried out, over the groans and cheers from the crowd. "Professor! I haven't even tried out!" he protested, climbing on the dais to plead with the woman. "I suck! Really, I do! Couldn't I just be Benvolio? Or better yet, one of the chorus?"

She waved an airy hand. "Nonsense!" Trelawney replied. "I have seen that you will be a perfect Romeo!" Harry's jaw dropped as she dismissed him to call forward the auditions for Juliet. He turned to beg Professor Binns only to find the ghost, scroll in hand, already writing him in as the lead.

Knowing he was overruled, Harry sat with a sigh, head in hands as he dangled his feet over the edge. He didn't lift his head through the auditions, and listened with only half an ear as Trelawney and Binns selected players for the remaining roles.

Eventually, he felt a hand on his knee and looked up to find an ecstatic Seamus smiling up at him. "I'm Mercutio!" the sandy-haired boy exclaimed. "Isn't it absolutely perfect?" Harry nodded half-heatedly.

Chancing a look around the room, Harry noticed that the crowd had thinned considerably. The professors were gone and a parchment hung from the wall. "That's the cast list," Seamus explained and dragged Harry over for a brief look. Harry nodded at it, not really focusing on the names and followed Seamus through the Great Hall to Gryffindor Tower, aware that the boy was talking but not actually hearing anything that was being said. His mind was far too busy with more important things, like how to get out of the play.

As soon as the portrait opened, however, Harry realized that wouldn't be possible. It seemed like everybody in the house was there, applauding as he walked in. The Creevey brothers snapped photographs as students took turns shaking Harry's hand. "I heard you beat out Malfoy," a particularly excited voice informed him. "You'll be amazing, Harry!" he was told more than once.

Harry sighed, used to the attention, and started toward the stairs, and the silence of his room. Eventually he reached them, his back having become rather sore and probably covered with a few more bruises than a good fall from a broom would provide, and escaped to bury his head beneath his pillow.

He took a deep breath and screamed. Somehow, that did not seem enough, so he did it again, kicking his feet against the mattress for good measure. Five minutes did the trick, and when Seamus bounded in the door ten minutes later, Harry was lying back, a copy of the script in front of him, though he wasn't actually reading it, and feeling as though the world was a tad bit more fair than it was when he'd come up here. He raised his brows at his friend.

"I just wanted to warn you that Hermione's coming up," Seamus grinned. The words were hardly through his lips when he was shoved, rather violently, out of the way and Hermione shot across the room, Ron following behind at a more sedate pace.

Harry had enough time to wonder at the irony of that before Hermione set in, gushing over Harry's new role. "Romeo!" she exclaimed, clasping her hands together. "Oh, Harry, Trelawney was right, and you'll never hear me say that again! You'll be a great Romeo!" She sighed. "Dark and emo-ish! Perfect."

Harry's eyes met with Ron's as the other boy sat on the end of his own bed. Emo-ish? Ron shrugged, and Harry turned his attention back to the girl. "I'm no actress, of course," she was saying, seemingly oblivious to Ron and Harry's silent exchange, "but I'll be the stage manager."

Harry sighed with relief. "Great," he said aloud and smiled at Hermione. "So you can help me remember all these lines."

Predictably, Hermione put him right to work. It wasn't until an hour later, when Seamus was talking to Ron as they played a round of chess, not that the Irish boy would ever be stupid enough to bet money on it, that Harry got the answer to the question that had been burning in the back of his mind. "Harry and I were talking about how many people were there," Seamus remarked casually as he moved his bishop forward. "I thought I'd be a shoo-in for at least some role, but then I saw that crowd. Wasn't too sure anymore, I tell ya."

"And why wouldn't there be any people there?" Hermione asked, using her best Know-It-All voice. "After all, William Shakespeare was a wizard."

Ron looked at her blankly. "Was he really?" Hermione rolled her eyes, ignoring the red-head in favor of flipping through the script.

**A/N: That's all for now. I love reviews so send me some! Please and Thank you! Oh, and thanks to kimmi, brionyjae, suddon, and BladeMaxwell-GoddessofDeath, for the reviews on the first chapter.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Romeo, Romeo…**

Harry wasn't looking forward to Thursday, no matter how excited Seamus was about rehearsal. It was just another opportunity to make a fool of himself. Even with Hermione's help, Harry could barely memorize any of his lines, forget delivery. Trelawney and Binns hadn't chosen any understudies. It was a magic school after all, and most any illness or reason to not perform could be taken care of in short order.

He kept his mind off the play by finishing homework on Tuesday night, much to Hermione's pride and Ron's bemusement. It was the first time since he'd come to Hogwarts that Harry had completed his homework more than a day in advance. Wednesday was quidditch practice. Harry half-hoped he'd fall off his broom and wake up on Friday morning, but no such luck. Thursday arrived with Harry in good health.

Seamus was bouncing off the walls, even managing to annoy McGonagall, who sent him on an extended errand to the greenhouse to get him out of the way. Snape simply took away house points, a malicious smirk growing on his face with every one. When the professor turned to the Slytherin side of the room to ask a question about unicorn hair, Hermione surreptitiously cast a silencing spell on Seamus. Fifty points were enough to lose in one class period. She refused to release him until the start of rehearsals later that day.

That evening found Harry in the classroom reserved for rehearsals, thankful he hadn't been late. Enough people were going to be staring at him as it was without his helping them. Professor Binns was already in the room when he'd arrived and the chairs had been arranged into two circles, an outer one and an inner one. Binns directed each student to a chair as they came in.

By the time Trelawney arrived, the chairs were full and Hermione had led the stage crew to the room next door to work on props and costumes. Harry fidgeted nervously with his script as he looked around the room. Lisa Turpin, a Ravenclaw in his year, sat next to him on his left, flipping through the script. Harry would bet a year's supply of chocolate frogs that she'd already memorized it cover to cover.

A closer inspection of the first circle was interrupted when he looked up to find Malfoy directly across from him, smirking at Harry's discomfort. Harry glared back but the effect was hardly what he'd wanted. Malfoy's smirk just grew bigger. Trelawney clapped her hands, calling the rehearsal to order and the conversations and muttered recitations died away.

"Today, we will be reading through Act One. The best place to start is the beginning so, the chorus, if you please," she said waving a hand towards a group of people in the outer circle. Harry turned in his chair to watch as the kids read their lines, more than a few stumbling over the words. It made him feel better, knowing that he wasn't the only one who couldn't act. Turning, he settled back in his seat and followed along the script, listening as Sampson and Gregory read and smiled at Seamus when the two began a fight with the Capulet servants. Justin Finch-Fletchly, on Seamus' left, spoke up, reading Benvolio's part.

A cold voice drew Harry's attention from his script and his eyes met with Malfoy's as the boy recited, without so much as a glance at his own script, "What, art thou drawn among the heartless hinds? Turn thee Benvolio, look upon thy death."

The shifting and slight sounds of students trying to get comfortable that had previously been background noise dropped away as everyone in the room froze to stare at Malfoy. Justin stammered a bit, finally getting out Benvolio's response, and Harry felt bad for him, unlucky enough to have to respond to such cold fury. His sympathy faded away though as Malfoy continued, never moving his gaze from Harry. "What, drawn, and talk of peace! I hate the word, as I hate Hell, all Montagues, and thee."

Chills ran down Harry's back and he fought the urge to shiver. It felt like every bit of that same hatred was being directed at him. He looked away, not wanting to see Malfoy's eyes boring into his anymore, and saw a nod and looks of smugness pass between Binns and Trelawney. They deserved the right, Harry conceded. They couldn't have picked a more perfect Tybalt.

The readings continued, with Harry trying and failing to follow along. He could still feel Malfoy's gaze burning at him and refused to give the boy the pleasure of acknowledging it. He didn't even notice when it came time for him to read Romeo. Seamus' sharp elbow in his side forced him to sit up right. "Is the day so young?" he blurted, louder than necessary. Seamus rolled his eyes. Harry was just proud he'd gotten that line out.

The reading continued though, and Harry's lack of acting skill soon became obvious. He couldn't say a line without stumbling over one word, or mispronouncing another. Even following along with the script, he needed Seamus' elbow in his side to remind him to speak. Then he made the mistake of looking up at Malfoy. A pained expression crossed the blond's face every time Harry spoke, which only made Harry mess up more.

Finally, Trelawney put them all out of their misery when she announced an early end to the rehearsal. Harry breathed a sigh of relief. Seamus patted his back sympathetically as chairs scraped and students rose to leave. Conversations picked up and Harry imagined that they were all talking about him. He sighed and put his chin on his hand as he waited for the other students to leave, studying the cracks in the stone floor despondently.

He didn't even bother to look up when a pair of feet stopped in his line of vision. It didn't take a genius to know that Malfoy was possibly the only kid in Hogwarts, and definitely the only one in the play, who had enough money and the desire to buy such elaborately stitched dragon leather boots. So it came as no surprise when the blond wizard's dry voice spoke to him. "You weren't kidding when you said you sucked," he paused. "Not that it's a shock, but I do hate that I lost Romeo to you, or rather, to your name."

Anger bloomed in his chest of course, matching the flush that rose to his cheeks, but Harry knew the other boy was right. He couldn't say anything back. Seamus jumped up though, more that willing to defend his friend. "It's not like he wanted the role, ya know!" he cried. "Besides, he'll make a better Romeo than you'd ever be. You have to have a heart to play a lover."

Though it made him smile to hear Seamus rooting for him, Harry could just imagine the look Malfoy was giving the sandy-haired Gryffindor, like a bug stuck to the bottom of his expensive boots. "Yes, and you have to have skill to be an actor," Malfoy drawled. "I'd be careful if I were you, Potter, sharing a room with this one. Sounds like he has a bit of a crush on you."

Malfoy spun and walked away just a Harry jumped up and grabbed Seamus' arm. His friend's face was a brilliant shade of red and he was sputtering angrily, only curses managing to make it past his lips whole. Malfoy had already left the room by the time Seamus calmed down. He spun to face Harry, red blotches still on his cheeks. "Harry, you know I wouldn't rape you, right?" he demanded. Harry nodded, dropping his friend's arm when it became obvious that he wouldn't run the Slytherin down. Seamus dropped into his chair and crossed his arms, exhaling a furious puff of air. "Besides, everyone knows I've got my cap set for Dean," he added, and Harry rolled his eyes.

**A/N: Okay that's all. Thanks for reading and special thanks to Amellie, brionyjae, BladeMaxwell-GoddessofDeath, and Howl To The Moon for reviewing the last chapter. Bye for now! **


	4. Chapter 4

**Romeo, Romeo…**

Harry stared blankly at the brown-haired witch sitting across the table from him, uncaring that his spoonful of oatmeal was dripping slowly back into his bowl. "What?" he finally managed to say.

Hermione sighed and pushed her hair away from her face. "I said, I won't be able to help you rehearse your lines anymore," she repeated. "And, really Harry, push your glasses up. You know how annoying that is."

He obliged absently, trying to make sense of his friend's words. It was breakfast on Sunday morning, usually the final peaceful moments of the weekend before Hermione started her never-ending crusade to have Harry and Ron actually complete the week's homework. It seemed this week, that reprieve would continue longer for than he'd dreamed. "But, why?" he asked.

Hermione gave a frustrated groan and dropped her head to the table. "Half of my stage crew quit!" she exclaimed. "No reason, no notice," she glanced up to meet Harry's gaze as she continued, "just 'We're done' and then gone." She groaned again and sat up to put her chin in her hand, stabbing at her scrambled eggs. "What's worse, the only ones that are left are a bunch of Slytherins, and I'm sure at least half of them weren't in attendance last week. You can imagine that the lot of them are less than co-operative."

Harry nodded and chanced a small bite at his oatmeal. Hermione barely noticed as she continued her ranting. "It wouldn't be so bad if this wasn't the first play ever, but we have nothing to work with! We make all the props, all the costumes and sure, some of it you can do with magic, but if there's a spell that can sew clothes, and I'm sure there is, then none of the teachers are forthcoming." She dropped her fork and pushed the plate away in disgust, as if all her troubles were the personal fault of the eggs. "What I wouldn't do for some talking mice right now."

Harry smiled at the Cinderella reference and shifted over to let Ron, late as usual claim a seat on the bench. "They have those, you know," he commented and started loading his plate with his daily array of breakfast foods. Harry moved his arm closer to his own plate to avoid the syrup that sloshed a bit over the side. "Bet Hagrid would like one of them," he finished, not caring that Hermione was giving him a look that clearly said he was a moron.

"Doubtful," Hermione said, shaking her head. "They don't breathe fire or try to cause bodily harm. Utterly uninteresting." Harry's laugh brought her attention back to him and she picked up the conversation as though Ron had never interrupted. "Any way, I just won't have the time to help you anymore. I'm really sorry, Harry."

He knew she genuinely felt bad, but he really didn't blame her. "It's not your fault," Harry's sighed. "What should I do? I can't learn them on my own. I'll look like an idiot."

Ron swallowed his food a little too quickly to point out, "Like on Thursday?"

"Ugh!" Harry moaned, dropping his spoon and giving up the pretense of eating altogether. "Does the whole school know?"

Ron nodded enthusiastically, "Like you could keep a secret in Gryffindor for long. As soon as Lavender finds out, it's all over!" Hermione's sad nod of confirmation had Harry dropping his head back to the table.

"I suggest that you find the best person in the play and ask for their help," Hermione advised as she collected her books and stood to leave. "Now, if you boys will excuse me, I've got a balcony to build." Tossing one last 'finish that Potions essay' over her shoulder, Hermione disappeared in the growing crowd leaving the great hall.

"This is awesome!" Ron exclaimed, not caring that crumbs spewed from his mouth. "The first time in three years that Hermione won't be here to bug us about school work!" He sighed contentedly. "This is going to be the best day, I can tell. I'm going back to sleep 'til lunch, then I'm going to eat lunch, then I'm going with Fred and George. They're setting off some dung bombs in the Slytherin common room," he whispered conspiratorially. "Can you imagine Malfoy's face when that stench hits him?" Ron laughed, his face growing red with excitement. "How are you going to celebrate, Harry?"

Harry stood and shook Ron's crumbs from his robe. "I'm going to write that essay," he said and laughed as his friend's shocked expression. He wandered slowly through the halls, letting the bustle of the other students calm his nerves a bit. Eventually, he made his way back to his dorm, where, true to his word, Ron had already fallen asleep. Fully intending to work on the essay, Harry sat comfortably on his bed and spread his books and parchment around him.

Quill in hand, he stared at the scroll. And stared some more. Harry tossed the quill away in frustration and flopped back against his pillows, reaching to the nightstand to grab his script. If he couldn't work without Hermione pestering him, the least he could do was study enough that he wasn't a complete laughingstock at tomorrow's rehearsal.

That worked as well as his potions essay had. He stared at the page blankly, aware that there were words flowing across it but unable to tell one from the other. He alternated between the two projects but didn't get any work done on either. When Ron woke up, so precisely at noon that Harry thought he must have some sort of inner alarm, Harry welcomed the break.

The great hall wasn't very full when they arrived, but the lines of students trickling through the wide doors promised a full house for lunch. Ron ate his food with as much enthusiasm as usual but Harry sighed, dropping his chin in his hand and poking his meat half-heartedly with his fork. Hermione plopped down suddenly across from him and Harry looked up. It didn't take a psychic to know his friend was not happy. "You okay, 'Mione?" Ron asked, around a mouthful of his roll.

Hermione gave a frustrated sigh that surprised more than a few of their lunch mates. "Harry, I am so sorry for every time I got on you for hating Slytherins so much. You were right, I was wrong. They have no redeeming qualities!" she exclaimed, slicing her hand through the air for good measure.

Ron and Harry stared at the witch gape-mouthed as she grabbed a goblet of pumpkin juice and took a deep swig. The look on her face said she wished it were something stronger. "Did you just say I was right?" Harry asked, a touch of smugness in his voice.

"Did you just say you were wrong?" Ron pointed out gleefully. "I'm going to savor this memory forever," he sighed, smiling.

She slammed her cup on the table with an audible clunk. "I spent half the morning working on that darn balcony. I finally got it to stand straight! I take five minutes to pop to the little witch's room and when I came back, the room was a disaster!" She dug her hands into her hair. "Harry, they set it on fire. On fire! The entire balcony was a smoldering pile of burnt wood!" Hermione threw her hands and gave a frustrated grunt. "So I asked what happened."

She looked at the two boys expectantly. "What'd they say?" Harry finally asked, taking a small bite of his toast.

"They didn't!" Hermione exclaimed. "The whole lot of them just burst out laughing and left the room, leaning on each other to keep their hairy frames upright and leaving me to clean up their mess!" Without another word, Hermione dug into her food with more gusto than usual, washing it down with another cup of juice. Then she left, leaving the hall at breakneck speed.

Harry figured she wanted to get back before the Slytherins could do any more damage. He sighed and brushed his hair back from his face. "Can you believe that?" he asked Ron.

"I know," his red-headed friend replied. "I don't even eat that fast. I don't think she took a breath the whole time." There was just the faintest hint of admiration in Ron's voice. He elbowed Harry's side none-too-gently. "And she didn't even ask about our homework."

Harry grinned and shook his head. He looked up in time to see Lisa Turpin standing from the Ravenclaw table, a group of her friends a few feet away, obviously waiting for her. He excused himself from Ron, though he doubted his friend noticed. The twins had come to collect him for their prank on the Slytherins. He was probably even more excited for the payback he'd be giving them.

"Lisa," Harry called as soon as he was close enough and immediately blushed when her group turned to face him as a whole. "Er…can I talk to you?" he stammered.

Lisa nodded. "Sure." She started towards him, then looked over her shoulder. Her friends had moved forward as well. She raised a brow at Harry.

"Alone," he confirmed and blushed again when the Ravenclaw group gave him knowing looks. Lisa giggled and followed Harry. He looked around, unsure, when they'd passed through the wide doors. He didn't really want to talk to her out here. It was embarrassing enough as it was without gaining an audience.

Lisa seemed to understand and grabbed his arm, leading Harry down the hall. They came to a classroom, empty at the moment but much used if the scuffed desks and unusual lack of dust was any indication. Even so, Harry had never been in the room before. He examined the scrolls hanging from the walls, filled with unfamiliar symbols. "What room is this?" he asked.

"Ancient Runes," Lisa replied, tossing her robe on a chair and hopping to sit on a desk. "Actually, I'm glad you asked to talk to me. There's something I needed to ask you."

"Yeah?" Harry said and leaned back against the teacher's desk. "What?"

Lisa twisted her hair around her finger and bit her lip. Harry held back a laugh. He doubted he'd ever again get the chance to see a Ravenclaw so unsure of what to say. "Well," she started slowly, "there's this guy." Harry's brows rose and she blushed. "He's truly amazing, and honest and sweet," she sighed. Harry made an encouraging noise, the same noise he made for Ginny when she took it in her head to ramble on about her current boyfriend. "We met last year and we've been dating ever since. This summer was the best summer of my life!" Lisa sighed happily, as if remembering.

Harry nodded, unsure of where this conversation was going. She laughed and waved a hand at him. "I know you don't care so I'll get point. He was a seventh year." She waited for that information to sink in. Harry watched the girl waiting for her to continue. "So he doesn't come here anymore," she prompted.

"Okay," Harry said. "I get it. Well, no, I don't. What does that have to do with me?"

Lisa twisted her hands together. "Nothing, actually, but…well, you see, he works down in Hogsmeade now. I only get to see him once a month. It's awful!" Tears filled her eyes and Harry jumped up quickly, rushing over to pat her back comfortingly. She took a deep breath and continued. "So I found a way to get to see him, but I can't be gone without a reason."

"A way? To Hogsmeade?" Harry asked.

Lisa nodded. "Uh-huh. A passage that goes straight into the village."

Harry knew then what she was going to ask, as surely as he knew exactly which passage she was talking about. "You want me to tell everybody we're together on the nights that you visit him," he guessed.

"Oh, would you?" Lisa confirmed. "That would be fantastic!" Harry didn't pause to think before nodding yes. The girl squealed and jumped up, throwing a hug around him that nearly knocked Harry from his feet. "Thank you, thank you, thank you soooooo much! Oh, Harry you don't know what this means to me!"

"I think I have an idea," he laughed and she stepped back.

"Really, Harry, thank you," she continued. "Anything you need, let me know! Now, what is your schedule like?" He looked at her blankly. "So I know when I can go," she explained.

Harry nodded. "Yeah, I guess that's important." He thought for a moment. "Well, Mondays and Thursdays are rehearsal. Quidditch on Wednesdays and Fridays, games on Saturdays. And Hermione makes us do homework on Sundays."

"So Tuesdays?" Lisa concluded. She frowned a little. "Well, not as often as I'd like but you're a busy guy so I guess it's to be expected. Right, Tuesdays. Thanks so much, Harry," she said again. "Are you sure there's nothing I can do for you?"

Harry shook his head with a smile. "Not off the top of my head."

She grinned at him and started to leave. Lisa had barely made it to the door, when it dawned on Harry that there was something she could do, besides the whole reason for his asking her here. "Actually," he said and she turned to face him with a smile. "Could you help me on this potions essay?" he asked.

"The one for next week?" she said, her brows lifted. "I haven't even started on that one yet."

Harry fought to keep his jaw from dropping. This girl would get along with Hermione _so_ well. "Er, no. The one due this week."

"Oh," she said, then, "Oh, sure." Harry could tell it never occurred to the Ravenclaw to put homework off for so long. She'd probably finished her essay as Hermione had, the day it was assigned. "No problem. Meet me in the library in twenty minutes," she finished. "I've got to pick up my papers. I have some other assignments I can work on while I help you."

"Really," Harry asked. "Thanks!" She left the room first. Harry shrugged as he headed to the Gryffindor dorm. At least today wouldn't be a total wash. Even if he hadn't gotten the tutor he needed for the play, he'd get a good mark on the paper.

Ron was there to clap him on the back in congratulations when Harry returned to his dorm later that evening. "Way to go, Harry," the red-head said and Harry could catch the faintest whiff of dungbomb odor still clinging to him.

"Thanks," Harry responded, almost out of habit. It wasn't until he'd tossed his books to the table next to his bed and started changing into his pajamas when he'd realized that he hadn't done anything worth congratulating. "Er…for what?" he asked, pulling the drawstring on his pants tighter. He seemed to be losing weight again. Hermione would start to worry if he wasn't careful.

Ron was having trouble with his own shirt. His head seemed unwilling to leave the striped garment. Harry stifled a laugh when his friend's muffled voice came to him. "On your new girlfriend."

"Oh," Harry nodded and threw his shirt off. He stuck his arms in the sleeves of his night shirt and pulled it over his head. "Wait, what?" he asked, Ron's words finally coming to him. "Girlfriend?" he said, blushing.

Ron nodded and kicked his clothes under his bed, then started digging around in his trunk, muttering under his breath about some new quidditch magazine. "Yeah. Lavender saw you and that Turpin girl together in the library. Said you were sitting real close and whispering all romantic-like." Ron stood, his prize in hand and flopped down on his bed. He gave Harry a mock glare over the top before turning his attention to the pages. "You could have mentioned that you liked the girl. She's cute for a Ravenclaw," he commented. "And of course, all the girls are excited."

Harry rubbed tiredly at the bridge of his nose. He could feel the headache forming. Tomorrow was not going to be a peaceful day. "Why would they be?" he finally asked, slipping under his covers and pulling his worn copy of _Quidditch Through the Ages_ from beneath his pillow.

"Dunno," Ron mumbled distractedly. "Think it had something to do with the play and her being Juliet." Harry groaned to himself. The mention of the play reminded him that he was still in trouble as far as an acting tutor was concerned. Tomorrow would definitely not be fun. At least he wouldn't have to lie, which he did horribly, yet another testament to his lack of acting skill. When people started wondering where Lisa kept disappearing to, they'd draw their own conclusions, thanks to Lavender's big mouth.

**A/N: You know, I thought I'd mention, in case no one's noticed, that I didn't make Lisa Turpin up. Really, she's in one of the books. One mention, by McGonagall in Harry's first year. At the sorting hat, heh. That's all. Thanks to brionyjae, Hatori-chan, Inky74, DanuMarie, SwarmOfFangirls, NemesisMuse, and BladeMaxwell-GoddessofDeath for the reviews. I love you guys! (Even though I don't show it by taking forever to update. So sorry! Finals, you know?)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Romeo, Romeo…**

Monday proved a test of patience for Harry, though it did amuse him that Hermione was even more grateful to return to classes than usual, and that was saying something rather significant. "You do not understand how simply _awful_ those Slytherins are!" she exclaimed during breakfast.

Harry snorted indiscreetly into his goblet. Ron had no qualms about voicing his opinions, and laughed outright. "We've been telling you that for years, 'Mione!"

She waved a hand in his direction as she sipped from her own cup. "Please, Ronald," she started in a tone that implied that she was used to humoring the red-head, "no one ever actually listens when you talk. They simply try to dodge the breadcrumbs."

Ron's face turned a mottled sort of red as Hermione stood and gathered her books, leaving the table with no apparent concern that the first class of the day wouldn't start for another half hour. "That's not true, is it, Harry?" he managed to sputter.

Harry choked back another laugh and bit into his toast, waiting until Ron looked away to brush the crumbs from his sleeve. A sudden jostling at his side drew his attention to Ginny, who had no problem with shoving Seamus over to squeeze next to him.

"Is it true?" she asked, dispensing with all pleasantries.

"Good, morning, Harry. How are you? Oh, fine, thanks, Ginny. You?" Harry said, instead of answering her question.

"Ha, ha. You're a comic genius," Ginny replied, "but as funny as you talking to yourself could be, I'd rather you talk to me. Are you really dating that Ravenclaw?"

Ginny, Harry had long since discovered, had the tenacity of a pit-bull. Once she had her teeth into something, she simply refused to let go. Luckily, she was also in the year below his. "Gee, look at the time!" he exclaimed, trying to contain his blush. "Hadn't we better go, Ron?"

"What are you talking about?" Ron asked around a mouthful of eggs. Harry gave him a meaningful look, which had no effect whatsoever, before grabbing the other boy's arm and dragging him from the room, despite Ron's loud protests.

"Hey!" Ginny called out, but Harry just moved faster. Something clattered behind them and he glanced back quickly. Ginny was on the floor, the bench they'd just vacated upended next to her as she glared daggers at Seamus. The teen pretended not to notice, but Harry could see his smirk as clearly as he could see the foot still resting on the leg of the bench. He chuckled to himself, the sound drowned out by the laughter echoing around the Great Hall, and made good his escape.

The rest of the day was hardly any closer to normal than breakfast had been. The whispers and the feeling that people were staring at him were things he'd grown used to years ago, and it almost never bothered him anymore. But the guys, some he barely recognized, coming up to congratulate him and the girls asking straight out if the rumors were true, those were the events that really threw his mood off.

Being in potions class, usually the one class when most of the students were afraid to open their mouths, didn't help and Snape docked Harry fifteen points each time another student leaned over to whisper something to him. By the time the greasy git released them, he'd managed to set Gryffindor back 195 points and Harry was actually praying for rehearsal to start.

"Don't these people have anything better to talk about?" he asked Hermione as they left the dungeons. Snape taking the points that brought the tally to 75 had resulted in the loss of Harry's grip on his frustration and he was no longer inclined to deal politely with anyone who asked him any kind of question right now. He glared at a Hufflepuff who'd been making a bee line for him. The boy gulped and swiftly turned away.

"If they did, I think we'd both be in a better mood right now," Hermione returned stiffly. She'd lost her patience before the tally hit 45, and was more than a little bitter over the total loss, which covered nearly all the points she'd earned for Gryffindor since the start of the year.

"Congratulations, Harry!" the Weasley twins called out in unison, spotting Harry as the left the History of Magic classroom. "At our best, we haven't lost so many points in one class," Fred confessed and slapped Harry on the back. He groaned as the twins wandered off, discussing whether to attend the next class or skip in favor of booby-trapping Snape's office while the professor took his lunch.

"I hope they choose the booby-traps," Ron said as he followed Harry and Hermione into the room, his foul mood clear enough in both the words and his face. "It wasn't your fault they wouldn't shut-up!" he exclaimed, slamming his books down on the desk hard enough to surprise Professor Binns, and the little ghost jumped slightly. Any other time Harry would have found the movement funny, but his anger with Snape and the other students overrode his humor.

The three spent the entire class in sullen silence. A few well-aimed glares, and a threatening wave of wand from Hermione, kept the other students away, but the boys were on their own in Divinations. Harry suffered through nearly an hour of Lavender, Padma and Parvati's questions, gossiping and squealing alone, sending helpless glances at Ron, who'd been shoved away by the girls from his usual seat next to Harry.

Finally, unable to withstand the torture, Harry did what any Gryffindor worthy of the title would have done. He faked ill and begged for a trip to the infirmary. Trelawney, who nursed a fondness for her favorite victim of predicted death, allowed him to go with the promise that he would arrive in time for rehearsal that evening, and Harry spent the rest of the afternoon in the relative comfort and absolute silence of the white walled hospital wing.

By some perverse trick of time, Harry found himself headed toward the rehearsal room too early for his happiness. The day had seemed to drag on for eternity until his escape, and as soon as he'd arrived in the infirmary, time shot forward at light speed. It just didn't seem quite fair. He sighed and stepped into the room, trying his best to ignore the chatter as he claimed his chair from four days earlier.

Seamus bounded into the room a few moments later, tossing Harry his script. "Heard you were sick, mate. All better?" the red-head asked, barely waiting for Harry's nod before turning in his chair to strike up a conversation with the boys in the chorus. Lisa sat next to him and gave him a wink before joining the conversation between Terry Boot and Hannah Abbot about costumes.

The chairs were filled by the time Trelawney swept into the room, nodding to Binns, as an apology for her lateness, Harry supposed. "We will start today where we ended," she informed them, the announcement followed immediately by the rustling of paper as the students flipped pages in their scripts. Harry opened his script as well, not needing the "Act one, scene three," the professor added almost as an afterthought to find the place. It was the end of his humiliation on Thursday and the start on Monday. He wasn't likely to forget it.

There was some time before he had to say anything, and Harry furrowed his brow, concentrating on the words on the page as Hannah and Pansy Parkinson, playing the nurse, began their dialogue. Good god, even she could act better than he could! He looked up when Lisa spoke, her voice clear and carrying. She knew her part well, as Harry guessed, and sounded like she could star in the role if the play was performed the next day.

Harry frowned again as he continued reading along. His study of the script the night before, and his fierce attention now, saved him from Seamus' elbow and he spoke his line as soon as Binns announced the beginning of the next act. He managed to keep up with the flow of the words for the entire page and was feeling quite proud over the improvement. Then he heard a snort from across the circle as Seamus enthusiastically began Mercutio's Queen Mab speech, and chanced looking up.

Malfoy sat across from him, as he had before, and the same pained expression was on his face. He shook his head at Harry and the Gryffindor could feel the little confidence he had start to drain away. He wasn't as bad as he'd been last Thursday. He'd actually stayed focused today.

Then came the inevitable anger the blond boy always seemed to ignite, and Harry scowled back. No one had asked for his opinion, and Harry hadn't wanted the role anyway. If Malfoy wanted to play Romeo, Harry would have given him the role with a smile, but it wasn't his choice! It had never been his choice! He hadn't wanted to come to the auditions and he certainly hadn't wanted to be in the play. "What?" he asked sharply when he felt Seamus' elbow dig into his ribs rather insistently.

The red-head gave Harry a glare that made him instantly ashamed before answering, "It's your line." He pointed to his script and Harry, blushing, fumbled to turn the page on his own and stumbled over his line, short as it was. Then he sighed. Great. One look away from the script and it was all over.

An hour later, Trelawney dismissed the group. They'd made it to the end of act two, with much stuttering and stumbling on Harry's part and the students were all to ready to leave. Harry sighed as he stood and stretched. He'd thought they'd never get through that balcony scene. Afterwards he'd had precious few pauses, the curse of playing a lead role.

It was about the time that nurse told Juliet of Romeo's plan for marriage that the idea had occurred to him. Under normal circumstances, Harry would have rejected the idea as the rubbish he knew it was. Today however, he was desperate. It was only three days until the next rehearsal and he couldn't make it through another as bad as this.

"Come on, Harry," Seamus nudged him, "dinner!"

He decided to go through with it. Harry checked to see his target occupied with Trelawney, and bored if his expression was any indication, then he leaned to Seamus. "Did you know," he whispered conspiratorially, "that as we speak, Dean is alone in the dorm room."

Seamus froze, and then turned to look at him, eyes wide. Harry felt a slight twinge of guilt. He knew Seamus had been searching for the perfect time to lay out on the table once and for all his feelings for Dean, just as he knew that Dean had been avoiding Seamus since the boy's last experiment. Harry couldn't blame him. He'd keep his distance from Seamus if the boy had managed to corrupt a spell used to dye hair to one used to dye skin. Even McGonagall had been unable to vanish the brightly colored stars, stripes and polka-dots that had erupted over Dean's flesh, and the three days it took for the marks to fade away had been less than pleasant for him.

He squashed the feeling though. It was for the greater good. "You know this for sure?" the Irish teen asked.

Harry nodded. "Of course. Neville's helping Professor Sprout tend the greenhouses tonight and Ron is always at least thirty minutes early to dinner."

Seamus nodded and shot off, dodging through the crowd at the door in his hurry to get to Dean before the boy headed downstairs. Harry sent a silent apology to him before moving slowly toward his own target, for once thankful for the Divinations professor for keeping the other boy occupied.

He reached Malfoy's side just as the woman finished whatever story she was relating. She pushed her glasses up on her nose and turned to Binns, leading him from the room as she started another. Harry shook his head. He was thankful the only thing she ever wanted to tell him was what new way he would meet his demise the next day.

"Well?" the Slytherin said, his tone telling Harry that Trelawney had taxed whatever patience Draco Malfoy did possess.

Still he worked up his nerve. "I need a favor," he finally managed.

Malfoy stared down at him, not quite able to control the utter shock that came over his face, followed quickly by the smug smirk that annoyed Harry so much. "How nice. Such a shame I don't do favors." He started to walk away.

Harry had expected this reaction, but he hadn't expected the panic to set in as strongly as it did. "Malfoy, please," he said, trying his best not to sound to terribly pathetic. That would probably, definitely, come later. Malfoy stopped and looked back at him.

He fought past the lump of dread in his throat as he tried to finish. There wasn't a doubt in his mind that he was going to regret this moment. "I can't do this on my own," he finally got out. "Hermione's too busy and Ron's basically useless at this stuff. I- I can't ask anyone else." Harry chanced a glance up to find Malfoy examining with a brow raised and arms crossed over his chest. The smirk grew wider with every word Harry tried not to choke on. "Please, help me. Tutor me."

Harry stared at the floor. It was easier than looking at the Slytherin, and it brought his hair, long as it was, forward enough to cover the fact that he was flushed bright red with shame. "I'll do whatever you want me to, but just…" he trailed off. It was seriously too pathetic; he couldn't even force himself to go on. He almost wished to be back in the cupboard under the stairs with his aunt and uncle discussing his worthlessness just feet away.

"Meet me in the Arithmancy room after dinner," was all he heard, spoken in the same drawling tone, he'd heard the other teen use dozens of times before. It was the same tone he'd used to insult Ron in first year, to insult Hermione in second, and so many other times in the years since Harry came to Hogwarts. So it was understandable that it wasn't until he heard the heavy door slam into place behind the blond wizard that Harry realized he hadn't said no.

**A/N: Ok, then. I'm sleepy so that's all for now. I'll try an update sooner next time, so sorry for the wait. Until then, thanks to brionyjae, SwarmOfFanGirls, and BladeMaxwell-GoddessOfDeath for the reviews. You guys are great!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Romeo, Romeo…**

Harry sighed with relief as Dean handed him the wrapped package. It being so near the end of the month, he hadn't been sure there would be any of the other boy's secret stash left and had been pleased when Dean readily gave the rest to him. "Thanks so much, Dean," Harry said, looking down at the small box in his hands. "You're a real friend."

Dean laughed. "For that?" he replied doubtfully. "If that's what you want to base your friendship on, good for you. Just don't let anyone know I gave it all to you. If the others find out, we might have a little chaos on our hands." He rolled his eyes. "Especially if Fred and George decide to get involved."

Harry laughed a little, as if it had been a joke. Truthfully, he knew Gryffindors, and he knew if they discovered he'd taken the last of Dean's supplies, chaos was exactly what would happen. He carefully slipped the package under his pillow before flopping down on his bed, script in hand.

Dean puttered around the room for a few minutes then sat at his own desk, presumably to work on homework. He kept glancing at his watch though and shortly before five, jumped from his chair and, waving good bye to Harry, bolted from the room.

Harry didn't have long to wonder what lit a fire under his friend because only moments later, the door flew open to reveal Seamus, sweat glistening on his forehead and breathing heavily from his dash up the stairs. The Irish boy scanned the room quickly before asking breathlessly, "Have… have you seen Dean?"

Feeling just the slightest bit guilty, Harry shook his head. "Not lately," he answered, flipping the page on the script. Rather than leaving as he'd expected though, Seamus slammed the door and, groaning his frustration, stomped over to fall face-down on his own bed.

Harry really couldn't blame the boy. It had not been a banner day for Seamus. He'd bounced back from his failure to catch Dean alone yesterday fairly easily but Harry knew of at least three times today that had also ended badly. The crowning achievement of downright awfulness had, of course, been potions class. Harry shook his head as he watched Seamus roll over and stare moodily up at the ceiling. Well, actually, it hadn't been the entire class, just the end that had left the day feeling as though recovery were impossible.

Seamus had been standing in line, ready to turn in his failed potion to Professor Snape, when he tripped over a stone that sat just a bit higher than the ones surrounding it. The vial slipped from his fingers as he flung out his hands to stop his fall, a completely unsuccessful maneuver. For once though, his potion caused no sort of explosion or even the faintest plume of smoke. Harry had thought that was funny considering Snape had assigned each pair of students a volatile potion to brew.

The Slytherin standing behind Seamus had had no difficulties in creating the acid he'd been assigned and, with a disgusted look down at the sandy-haired boy still on the floor, moved to step around him. Instead, he placed his foot squarely in the center of the goopy mess that had been Seamus' potion, and slipped, his vial flying up in a graceful arc as the boy fell heavily to the floor. The glass shattered as it landed in the center of Snape's desk, and steam billowed into the air as the acid ate away at the solid wood.

Hermione had rushed forward, wand out and ready to wash away the fluid. Before Harry could warn her of the danger though, she'd tripped over the Slytherin's outstretched foot. Her potion vial cracked as it hit one of the remaining feet of the desk and, as the other students looked on in stunned silence, the entire area burst into brilliant purple flames. In seconds, all that remained of the desk was a pile of ash.

For long moments, no one said a word, Harry among them. It had all happened so quickly. He looked down at Seamus, who still lay on his stomach on the stone floor and was staring wide-eyed at the place where Snape's desk had stood just moments ago. "Wow," he finally whispered. Then, as if the word had broken a trance, the students began muttering to one another until Snape cleared his throat.

All things considered, Harry thought Seamus had gotten off lightly with two hours of detention and the loss of fifty points. It was the other students who really turned the event into a disaster.

Usually, the potions essays that were due each Monday were graded and returned the next day. That particular Monday evening, however, Snape had had "other obligations" and had been unable to complete the task, as he'd informed each class as they arrived, and the essays had still been stacked in neat rows on the desk from the day before. While they'd made it through the acid unscathed, the heavy paper had quickly caught fire, leaving only charred, blackened remnants of their homework.

It was when Snape announced that the students would have to rewrite the papers, and that they would only have until Wednesday to do so, that the class began to turn angry or hateful glares on Seamus, who groaned and ducked his head, too frustrated anyway to do the usual and joke his way out of their bad graces.

Harry shook his head again as he remembered. He flipped through a few more pages of the script before Seamus finally stood from his bed and stretched. "Well," he said, almost sounding like his usual cheerful self, "I'm heading down for dinner. Coming, Harry?" he paused be the door, looking back at his friend.

Harry shook his head. "I've really got to finish this," he answered, waving the script a little. "I just grab something from the kitchens later." Seamus nodded and left. As soon as the door clicked closed, Harry stood and moved quickly, opening the panel and checking to be sure no one was coming. Then, he walked back to his bed and pulled the package from beneath the pillow, shaking his head down at it.

Tucking the package securely under his arm, Harry made his way through the common room, mostly empty at dinnertime, and slipped through portrait hole. He was already running late and his luck, which had soured as soon as Dean had given him the package, stayed true. Harry got lost twice on the way when the staircases decided that it would be a good time to move. When he finally made it to the empty Arithmancy classroom a good hour late, he wasn't expecting Malfoy to be there.

He stood outside the door for a moment, trying to catch his breath. When he sounded a little more normal than the heavy gasping the long run had reduced his usual rhythm, Harry finally opened the door.

Rays of evening sun slated across the desks, casting lines across the room's wooden floor and the windows offered a perfect view, to anyone who cared, of the sun just dipping below the trees. Harry didn't care. He took a few steps inside and closed the door softly behind him. Casting a look around the room, he wasn't surprised to find it empty.

Harry sighed with frustration and kicked a leg of one of the desks before dropping the package on the table at the head of the room and dropping into a chair. He stared moodily at the simple box, crossing his arms over his chest and kicking his legs out in front of him.

"You're late." The voice seemed to come out of no where and Harry jumped. Unfortunately, he'd been leaning the chair back as he contemplated some of the vials and powders arranged on the table near his package and the two legs of the chair that were still in contact with the floor were unable to handle his surprise.

The chair slipped from under him and both, Harry and the chair, hit the floor with a resounding bang. "Shit!" Harry cried as his head collided with the cold stone of the wall behind him. He lifted a hand to the tender spot and bit his lip to keep the tears from rushing to his eyes. After the begging he'd done yesterday, he really did not want to offer Draco Malfoy another show.

"Are you alive?" Malfoy drawled softly. Harry opened one eye to find the other boy standing above, looking down with one eyebrow raised.

He stared up for a few seconds before he finally managed to say anything. "You're not laughing?"

Malfoy watched him stand, still holding his head gingerly, then waved him to another chair, one that sat quite securely on four legs. "If the incident repeats itself tomorrow, I will be the first to show my amusement," he replied taking the chair behind the teachers' desk and pulling the package to the direct center. "This is it, then?" he asked, tapping the edge of the wrapped box.

Harry started to nod then, finding the movement just a little too painful, answered, "Yeah."

Malfoy seemed to take his word for it and nodded once as he pushed the package to the side of the desk. "Have you memorized the lines of Act One yet?"

Harry looked down. "Not yet. I tried…"

Malfoy snorted. "I don't care about what you tried," he sneered standing and coming around the desk. He leaned his hip against the edge and crossed his arms over his chest, using the greater height to glare down at the Gryffindor. "It was a yes or no question. You didn't learn the lines." He grabbed a stack of papers from table behind him and tossed it to Harry. "Read them," the blond ordered.

Harry bit his lip again, this time to keep his natural rude response from escaping, and looked down at the papers. It was a copy of the script, of just Act One if the thickness was any indication. He glanced up at Malfoy, who stood unmoving by the desk, before flipping through to his first lines. "Is the day so young?"

"Stop," Malfoy ordered and Harry looked up, surprised. "I said read it," the other boy snapped. "That doesn't mean you're acting. Just read the lines out loud, like you would a list."

Harry frowned. He couldn't see how that would help him act. Looking down at the page, he started over trying not to put any feeling into the words. After a few false starts, he seemed to manage that to Malfoy's satisfaction and read on, with his tutor reciting lines for all the other parts. Harry stumbled over a few of his lines when he noticed that Malfoy didn't even have a script in front of him, but otherwise the reading went off without a hitch. When they reached the end of the act, Harry was surprised to realize he hadn't had any trouble.

"Again," was all Malfoy said when Harry looked up at the end of the act. The blond had moved to sit on the desk, crossing his legs and leaning back on his hands as he stared intently at Harry, who was all too happy to stop looking into those cold eyes. He started again, and this time he read each line smoothly, making sure not to read the emotions Shakespeare had intended.

"Again," Malfoy said at the end of the act. Harry glared up a retort ready on the tip of his tongue, but Malfoy leaned forward, grabbed the script and jerked it away from Harry. "Again," he repeated sharply, eyes narrowing as he glared.

Harry glared back, his gaze flicking between Malfoy and the script, clutched firmly in the boy's hand. Then Malfoy smiled coldly and leaned back a little, holding the script and waving it lightly, as if fanning himself. It was a silent reminder of just who had begged for his help and Harry could feel himself tense.

"Is the day so young?" he bit out, concentrating on the fists clenched beneath his desk.

"But new struck nine," Malfoy replied, reciting Benvolio's line.

Harry ignored that the other boy was smirking at him and tried to focus on his next line. "Ay me," he started slowly, "sad hours seem long. Was that my father that went hence so fast?" He looked up at Malfoy, surprise overriding his anger. He hadn't screwed that line up.

Malfoy said nothing aside from Benvolio's next line, and Harry responded, not taking his eyes from Malfoy's smirking face as he continued the conversation, right up to the end of the first scene.

Without pausing, Malfoy continued into the second scene. Harry stumbled a little as he started his lines. Even so, it was better than yesterday's rehearsal. At least now, once he started, each line went smoothly. They skipped the third scene, as they had before, and Harry paused as he tried to remember Romeo's opening line form the fourth. Malfoy said nothing, he face a blank mask as he offered not even the slightest hint.

Harry bit his lip, frowning as his gaze wandered out the window and he stared a little into the darkness that had fallen. Then slowly, "What, shall this speech be spoke for our excuse? Or…" he paused again. "Or shall we…er…shall we on without apology?" He looked up at Malfoy, who nodded, and Harry broke into a grin. He managed to make it through the last two scenes, fumbling his lines considerably more that he had been, but as he'd never made it so far into the script on his own, Harry figured he was doing pretty good.

Malfoy nodded again and tossed the script aside as they finished. "Congratulations, Potter," he said dryly and reached over to pull the box into his lap. "You have just memorized Act One."

Harry snorted, "Sure, so long as I can say the lines with absolutely zero feeling, which I'm sure the audience will appreciate." Even so, he was secretly pleased with himself and watched as Malfoy finally ripped the paper and opened the box.

Malfoy either forgot he was there or didn't care because as soon as he removed the top of the box, a smile spread across his face. Harry almost fell on his way to the door, tripping over his own feet in surprise. A smile? A genuine smile from the guy every girl in Gryffindor called the Ice Prince? Well, that or 'snob', 'jerk' and the occasional 'bastard', but even so.

He shook off his shock and started toward the door again, trying not to draw too much attention. Malfoy could ruin a good mood with one look and Harry rather wanted to keep his for a while. It was so much better than the rotten mood he'd ended the last two weeks with. "Potter," Malfoy called. Harry grimaced a little and turned back around. "See you next Tuesday," the blond finished and lifted the box, a subtle reminder to bring more.

Harry nodded and slipped from the room. He stood outside the door for a few minutes feeling the smile. Then he pushed himself away from the wood and started to make his way back to the dorms. He made it as far as the entrance hall before he ran into Lisa Turpin.

"Harry!" she called breathlessly and skipped over to his side. Slipping and arm around his, Lisa laid her head on Harry's shoulder and sighed happily. "Oh, I had to thank you again," she gushed. "I just had the best night I've had since school started."

Harry laughed. "Oh, really,' he prompted, thinking of his own good luck that night. He'd made it through an entire Act! By memory! With Malfoy and himself still both alive. Truly a noteworthy accomplishment. He chuckled a little to himself and Lisa started to ramble on about he boyfriend.

As they approached the top of the staircase, the doors to the Great Hall opened and a piercing squeal echoed through the hall. Harry spun and leaned over the railing to see what the problem was, only to find Lavender Brown and a sizable group of girls pointing and giggling in his direction.

He blushed and turned back, grabbing Lisa's hand and nearly pulling her down the hall. Once he'd put two floors and five rooms between them and the Great Hall, Harry lat go. "Lisa, I'm so sorry," he started, feeling his face darken more.

"Pssh," she said and waved a hand at him. "They thought exactly want they've been thinking since yesterday. Now they figure they just have proof." She shrugged. "It's all fine as long as no one figures out the truth, right?"

Harry grinned and nodded. 'Yeah," he answered, and imagined his housemates' reactions if they ever caught him in acting lessons with Malfoy. "As long as no one figures out the truth," he repeated and laughed.

"Thanks, Potter," Lisa slapped him on the back and waved over her shoulder as she strolled away, humming happily. Harry smiled behind her and headed back to his own dorm, where he knew he would be attacked by every gossip hound in Gryffindor. He rolled his eyes as he thought of the Creevey brothers. Please, please, please, don't make me go blind this time, he begged silently.

It wasn't until later that night, when he'd finally escaped the torture the girls called gossip when he'd finally gained his sight back from the Creevey brothers' double camera attack, when Ron and Seamus finally exhausted their arsenal of questions about Lisa, and he was lying in his bed that Harry finally had time to think.

He shifted a little, rolling onto his back and sticking his arm under his head as he stared up at the ceiling and grinned to himself. Of all the people at Hogwarts, of all the people he'd ever met if he really thought about it, Draco Malfoy would be the last one he'd figure would be smiling at nothing more than a box full of simple Muggle-made chocolate bars.

**A/N: Well? Tell me what you think, yea? Thanks to xxrosaliecullenxx, Soralizio, lysistratafun,brionyjae, and SwarmOfFangirls for the lovely reviews!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Romeo, Romeo…**

Harry hastily added the finishing touches to his potions essay the next morning at breakfast. It was really a shame that the first hadn't made it to the grading process, he thought, eying the paper critically. He'd tried his best to make this one the same, but it still seemed different without Lisa there helping. He shrugged and rolled up the scroll. At least he'd managed to finish before class.

There was a bit of commotion at the entrance to the Great Hall and Harry looked up. He couldn't help the laugh that escaped. After all, he'd known Hermione and Ron both for years and never would have bet even a knut that he'd see the smartest witch in his class beg for help from the red-head.

"Please, Ron!" she was saying as they came closer to the table. "I can't make it through another session with those Slytherins. We haven't got anything done!"

Ron shook his head and started piling food high on his plate. "Not a chance, 'Mione. I can't even stand them in class, and you want me to go see them after school?" he snorted and shook his head again.

Hermione sighed, obviously fed up with pleading, and sighed. "Alright, then," she said. "You won't help. I can respect that." She picked up her fork and took a small bite of eggs, chewing contentedly.

Ron looked at her suspiciously. "Really?" he asked, and Harry could tell he thought she'd given up too easily. Truthfully, he thought so too.

"Mm-hmm," Hermione confirmed and continued her breakfast.

Ron watched her for a few moments, then smiled. "Well, okay then," he said and turned to start a conversation with Harry.

Harry finished his breakfast as Ron rambled on about the new beater the Chudley Cannons had taken and started gathering his stuff. "What's that?" Ron asked, sputtering his usual breadcrumbs, and pointed to Harry's rolled scroll.

Harry picked it up. "It's the potions essay we had to rewrite for class today," he answered. Ron started coughing, his face turning an alarming shade of red. "Whoa!" Harry cried and dropped his papers to pound his friend's back.

"That was due today?" Ron finally managed to ask some time later.

Harry nodded. "How could you forget?" he asked, not quite believing that something so major as a teacher's desk bursting into flames could simply slip anyone's mind, even Ron's. "It was only yesterday that Snape gave it to us. Again," he sighed.

"I've slept," Ron muttered, his cheeks, not quite returned to their normal freckled paleness, flushed brighter. The panic faded though as he looked over at Hermione, who still sat next to him finishing her breakfast quietly. "Hey, Hermione," he started casually.

"Hello, Ron," she replied, just as easily, though she had to know what was coming next. She'd been sitting there the entire time. Then it dawned on Harry, the reason Hermione had given in so quickly. He smiled to himself and looked down, gathering his belongings once more. It was better that Ron learn for himself.

"So, you'll help a pal out, right," Harry heard as Ron finished his explanation of why he hadn't completed the assignment, and why Hermione should help him. It had been a short explanation.

Hermione gave Ron her best 'we'll always be friends' smile and said, "Not a chance." Then she stood, picked up her stack of books and made her exit as Ron stared after her in shock.

"Wha?" he said then stood, nearly falling over the bench. ""Scuse me," he muttered to Harry as he took off after the girl. ""Mione, wait!" he called, bumping more than a few students out of his way as he followed her out of the room.

Harry sighed, grabbing Ron's books and heading to class at a more sedate pace. Ron would never learn. You just didn't anger the people you needed help from, and he would always need help from Hermione. By the time he arrived at his Defense Against the Dark Arts class, nothing had changed. Ron was still begging Hermione for help and she still answered his every plea with a simple "not a chance." He laughed a little as he slid into his desk.

Class that day was relatively easy. Harry had already learned most of the spells they would be studying today and so his mind was free to wander. He practiced his lines from Act One silently. It had taken so long to learn them, and at such a price, that he didn't want to take even the smallest chance forgetting them.

Fortunately, at least for Ron, McGonagall ended Transfigurations early when Seamus, in an attempt to turn his pencil into a snake, managed to turn Neville into a toad. While Harry and most of the class could appreciate the irony of that, McGonagall apparently couldn't and escorted both Seamus and Neville the Toad to Dumbledore's office. Ron didn't so much as pause to catch his breath before turning to Hermione and once more begging for help, the pressure of a deadline resting heavily on his shoulders.

It was only mid-way through lunch when Harry heard Ron's triumphant crow echo even above the dull roar of the Great Hall. He looked up from trying to memorize his lines in Act Two, with less luck than the day before, to see Hermione leaning close to Ron, talking quietly. Ron's quill moved quickly across the paper, obviously copying every word Hermione fed him, with a few pauses here and there as she corrected his spelling.

He was a bit surprised. Harry had thought Hermione would last a bit longer than only half the day. Then he saw the touch of smugness at the corner of her smile. When she looked up and winked at him, Harry knew for sure that the girl had won. And why wouldn't she? Blackmail had been working for years, so it was sure to help any Gryffindor willing to use it.

The next morning, Harry strode into the Great Hall a good thirty minutes later than usual. He'd overslept and was now attempting to put his robe on and read more of his script at the same time. It was less than successful. He nearly tripped walking past the Hufflepuff table, just managing to regain his balance before walking right into another student. Harry stumbled back a few inches and sighed. "Sorry," he muttered, not bothering to see who he'd run into as he bent down to grab the script that had fallen from his hand.

Instead, he managed to tangle his arm with his robe. Then, trying to free himself, stepped on the edge and tripped, landing hard on his other arm. "Damn it," he muttered, frustrated. Not that anyone could hear it over the laughter that erupted through the room. He finally pulled his arm from the robe and sat up straight, testing his other for signs of broken bones. That fall hurt just a little more than it should have.

There were some spots that looked as if they'd bruise but Harry didn't think he'd broken anything. He sighed his relief. He hadn't eaten well last night and really needed some breakfast if he was to make it through the day, something he wouldn't get if he spent the morning in the hospital wing with Pomfrey. "How long do you intend to sit on my robe?" he heard the familiar voice ask coolly from above. He looked up. Malfoy was glaring down at him, had obviously long since lost his patience.

Harry fought his usual impulse, to shoot back some equally insulting look, and simply muttered, "Sorry," again before standing. After all, the boy was helping him, with ill grace, but still helping. Malfoy snorted and stalked away, robes billowing behind him in a manner that left no question as to who taught him.

"Harry, I'm so proud of you," Hermione gushed as he finally made it to the Gryffindor table.

"What for?" he asked, settling into his seat and propping the script against his cup. He needed to memorize as much of Act Three as he could before rehearsal this afternoon and Malfoy's 'list' seemed to be doing the trick.

"You didn't get into a fight with Malfoy," Hermione pointed out, taking a sip from her goblet. "And for a moment there, it looked like you would."

"Yeah, mate, what's wrong with you?" Ron asked around a mouthful of toast. Harry shrugged and turned his attention to his script, letting the flow of conversation wash over him as he tried to study the words, with much more success than before. It wasn't until he felt Ron moving roughly at his side that Harry realized it was time for classes.

"A plague on both your houses!" Seamus called out loudly later that day. Harry grinned at his friend. The Irish boy apparently could hold in his enthusiasm no longer and was standing in front of his chair, script rolled in one hand and the other clenched against his chest. Harry shook his head. Only Seamus could turn the death scene into a comedy.

It seemed as though his extra study had paid off because Harry had yet to make a fool of himself during this rehearsal. His delivery was bland, but at least the lines were coming out right, and he'd hardly had to look at his script. The one time he'd chanced a glance at Malfoy, the other boy didn't have that familiar pained expression, was in fact smirking slightly. Harry took it as a sign that, though he may not have gotten good, he at least didn't suck as badly as he had before.

Even so, it was with no small pleasure that he read the first few lines of his last fight with Tybalt and he grinned as he said, "Either thou, or I, or both, must go with him."

All heads turned to Malfoy, breath held in anticipation. Though no one would admit it aloud, it was this showdown between Harry and Malfoy- Romeo and Tybalt- that they been looking forward to. "Thou wretched boy that did consort him here, shalt with him hence," Malfoy responded, voice chill with anger and face impassive. Except those eyes. Harry thought it was a shame the audience wouldn't be able to see the hatred that glowed in Malfoy's steady gaze. It would give goose bumps even to those who thought Snape a cuddly old man.

"That is going to look so amazing when they give you two swords," Seamus whispered to him at the close of the scene, barely able to contain his excitement. Harry nodded back, smiling half-heartedly.

Harry leaned back in his seat, chewing thoughtfully on his thumbnail as he watched Lisa and Pansy read their lines. He didn't know how to fence. He supposed he wouldn't really have to, but the thought of getting on the stage and fighting with Malfoy, even if they were only acting, made him both nervous and excited. At least he knew he would win, he thought with a grin.

Friar Lawrence was going to be played by a Slytherin, something that Harry found vaguely ironic. Malcolm Baddock didn't seem any more happy with it than Harry did, but was strangely quiet about his role. Every so often, more so when he was reading his lines almost as painfully as Harry had been, he would send a glare over to Malfoy. Which really didn't make any sense, because Harry figured the boy would be more angry with him. After all, if he hadn't shown up for the auditions, chances were pretty good that Malfoy would have been Romeo. He watched as Malfoy curled his lip in disgust at Baddock's recitation. Then again, maybe not.

The rest of the reading was simple, though Harry blushed when he and Lisa read their farewells. The inevitable 'awws' and knowing giggles from the girls in the two circles didn't nothing to ease his discomfort and he was glad that those were the last of his lines for the act.

Predictably, Trelawney ended rehearsal at the end of the scene five. Harry guessed even she could only deal with the poor acting of most of the group for so long. Binns warned the group to expect a long rehearsal on Monday, an announcement that inspired a few groans.

Harry stood from his chair and stretched, then picked up his cloak and script. Turning, he noticed that Malfoy hadn't moved and the blond glanced down at the chair next to him before narrowing his gaze meaningfully on Harry. He sighed, then turned to Seamus, who usually left with him.

Seamus was still unsuccessful in his attempts to corner Dean. While Harry felt bad for him, he also couldn't help but be thankful that he was so familiar with the schedules of the four boys with whom he shared a room. "Seamus, you know Dean's in the library right now, right?" he asked casually.

Seamus looked at him suspiciously for a moment and Harry silently cursed. Did it seem too much like he was trying to get the other boy to leave first? "How do you know?" Seamus asked cautiously.

Harry shrugged. "Remember last night when Ron beat him at wizard's chess?" Seamus nodded. "Well, he didn't have any money, so Ron's making him help with the stage set-up. He's trying to get an early start on his homework this week."

The words had barely left his mouth when Seamus bolted through the room, pushing aside more than one person in his rush to get to the library. Harry sent another silent apology Dean's way and waited for the room to clear. When everyone else had left, Harry walked over to where Malfoy was still waiting patiently.

"You've been practicing," Malfoy observed and Harry nodded. "What are you doing Saturday morning?"

Harry frowned. As if Malfoy didn't know. He was still the Slytherin seeker. "Quidditch. Why?"

Malfoy shrugged. "You need to learn delivery. What about Saturday afternoon?" He stood, brushing wrinkles from his robe as he waited for an answer.

"Nothing but homework," Harry answered slowly, trying not to respond the feeling that told him he'd just been insulted. Everything Malfoy said sounded like an insult. Fighting with the boy over it wouldn't get him though this play with his dignity intact.

"Good," Malfoy drawled, picking up his script and tapping the papers against his shoulder. "Escape your fan club for a few hours and go to the usual spot. Maybe I can get you to sound like you know what you're doing by Monday evening."

Harry grit his teeth and nodded, then brushed past Malfoy on his way to the door. He wouldn't be able to deal with the Slytherin much longer. He wasn't a saint. "Potter," Harry looked over his shoulder. "Bring some Almond Joys next time."

Harry nodded stiffly, trying not to grin. So that was why the other boy was so eager for another lesson. He must have run out of chocolate.

**A/N: I am so sorry it's taking so long. I actually like this story more than I thought I would. So I'm spending more time trying to get it right. Heh. Anyway, thanks to trillium248, NiceAsPie, jo, xnyxchanx, SwarmOfFangirls, Nessa's Night, Brionyjae, and an anonymous reviewer (*shrug*) for reviewing last chapter. You guys are still awesome!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Romeo, Romeo...**

Harry cursed as he tripped up another few steps, hitting his knee. Again. It was definitely going to bruise, so it'd match the ones he was sure would decorate his back. Like so many times before when he'd needed to be at a certain place at a certain time, Harry found himself a victim of Fate.

He was running late. The quidditch game had started well, with Gryffindor scoring a quick twenty points against their Ravenclaw opponents, but had taken a sour turn from then on. For the first time, Harry had trouble finding the snitch, or rather, the small gold ball had gotten better at hiding from him.

The match had dragged on for hours and neither seeker had seen even a glisten of the elusive prize. Then, nearly five hours after the game's start, and long after the audience had become restless, Harry saw it and he'd shot forward, straight past the Ravenclaw seeker, still yawning on his broom. He'd grabbed the snitch, and headed for the ground, accepting congratulations and cheers as he went.

In the locker room, he'd forgone his shower, just changing into his usual post-game tee and jeans, and dashing out before most of the team had even made it to the showers. From then it was one mishap after another as Peeves decided he was a perfect target for mischief. Harry was attacked by no less than six suits of armor, and more than one book caught him in the back. Eventually, he'd made it to Gryffindor Tower and grabbed his script and the next box of chocolates, hastily flown to Hogwarts that morning courtesy of Dean's cousin, and headed through the portrait hole.

Thankfully, Peeves had gotten bored waiting for Harry and was floating above a couple down the hall, singing a few of his more annoying lyrics. Harry turned the other way and jogged down a few flights of stairs until he reached the Arithmancy classroom.

He didn't bother to wait before opening the door, again expecting the room to be empty, and was startled to find Malfoy still there. The blond wasn't looking at him though, hadn't appeared to even notice the door opening. He was leaning against the teacher's desk, his arms crossed over his chest as he stared out the window, the late afternoon light making little more than a silhouette of his figure.

Harry stared, reluctant to break into the other teen's thoughts. "Um..." he mumbled but it was loud enough. Malfoy dropped his hands to the edge of the desk and turned to look at Harry. Not being able to see the look on Malfoy's face made him more nervous than it should have and Harry closed the door behind him as he moved to take one of the chairs.

"Sorry, I'm late," he said, and held the box out to his tutor. Malfoy took it with a nod and turned to put it on the desk. Then almost as an after thought, he opened it and pulled out an Almond Joy. Harry thought he heard a whispered cheer before the other turned back, opening the wrapper and taking a bite.

"This," Malfoy said as soon as he'd finished the first bite, "more than makes up for your tardiness." He smiled at the candy and finished off the first segment.

Harry grinned. "So, I guess those are your favorite then, huh?" he asked, nervously flipping the pages of his script. This was a side to Draco Malfoy that he hadn't known existed, and it was more than a little strange to see it.

Malfoy nodded at him with a slight smile that faded quickly, as if he'd just realized who he was smiling at. "Have you memorized the rest of the play?" the blond asked, changing the subject with an abruptness that would have hurt Harry's feelings had it been anybody but Malfoy.

Harry nodded. "Yeah, but its like you said. I can't say them with..." he waved a hand vaguely. "With feeling. I forget what I'm supposed to say."

Malfoy snorted. "You're not forgetting. You're just getting distracted." He jumped a bit to sit on the teacher's desk, crossing his legs and pulling his copy of the script in to his lap. "We'll start easy. Go to Romeo's first line," he ordered and Harry nodded as he flipped open his script.

It took Harry nearly two hours to finish the first Act, and even then Malfoy wasn't satisfied. When the blond sighed and tossed his script aside in favor of his third candy bar, Harry seriously considered giving up. Then he remembered begging Malfoy for help and shook his head to himself, a silent refusal to quit after having gone through such a humiliating experience. He turned his gaze upwards, glaring at the ceiling with his hands folded behind his head and listening to Malfoy crunch angrily at his candy. It had to be a Butterfinger, it sure sounded like one.

"Again," he heard the other boy command in a voice that sounded like it would rather be anywhere else. "Try it again. 'Good morrow, cousin,'" he quoted, and Harry didn't have to be looking to know Malfoy wasn't using his script.

Harry took a deep breath. Okay, sad. Romeo was sad at this part. He nodded slightly to himself, concentrating on the stones above him. He could do sad, self-pitying, as Malfoy had called it earlier. He knew Moaning Myrtle after all. Maybe if he tried for that... "Is the day so young?" he asked slowly, trying to inject the words with as much of Myrtle's moroseness as he could.

Malfoy was quiet for a moment, then, apparently satisfied with Harry's response, continued the scene. "But new struck nine." Harry could tell just by the way he said those four words that Malfoy didn't expect him to be able to say the next line quite as well.

He did enjoy proving his rival wrong. Harry smiled a little, and concentrated again on his memory of Myrtle's depression. He could copy that again, he was sure. "Ay, me. Sad hours seem long," he recited, drawing out the words a little. He paused for a moment, Malfoy waiting patiently as Harry thought of his next line. A bit of curiosity, maybe. Something like.... "Was that my Father that went hence so fast?"

"It was. What sadness lengthens Romeo's hours?" Malfoy asked without so much as a pause.

Harry made a face that he hoped Malfoy couldn't see at the ceiling. The jerk was purposely hiding his surprise, just to spite him, Harry was sure. Then he turned his focus back to his lines and Myrtle's depression. "Not having that which having makes them seem short," he answered slowly, more because he wasn't sure they were the right words than because he was trying to sound 'self-pitying.'

Fortunately, Malfoy seemed not to notice. He continued on, Harry reciting back at a snail's pace compared to the blond's lightening quick responses. By the time they'd finished the first act, dinner was half over and Harry knew he'd have some questions to answer, but he could say his lines well enough to satisfy Malfoy. Somehow, the quizzing he knew he'd get seemed less important.

"Here," he heard and caught the candy bar Malfoy tossed at him. Harry blinked down at the bright blue and white wrapper then up at the Slytherin. "What's this for?" he asked.

Malfoy shrugged. "We weren't supposed to have a session today. You showed up anyway." Harry looked at him blankly, but couldn't draw whatever conclusion Malfoy had. The blond rolled his eyes. "It means you're serious about learning this and not just wasting my time." He turned and grabbed the box from the desk, then walked to the door. Malfoy paused as he put his hand on the knob, turning back to look at Harry. "And you don't have to skip your shower."

Harry felt himself blush as Malfoy left, closing the door behind himself. He looked down at the candy, then frowned. There had only been three Almond Joys in that package. Why had Malfoy given him one when it was obviously his favorite? He thought over the other teen's words. It was a reward? Harry flushed again, rushing from his seat to the door and throwing it open to yell, "I'm not a dog, you know!"

Not that it mattered. The hall was already empty. He grumbled to himself as he stalked back to the desk he'd been using, grabbing his script and turning on his heel to leave. All the way to the lunchroom, turned the scene over in his head, working himself up to anger. A reward. How ridiculous.

Taking a seat next to Seamus at the Gryffindor table, Harry forgot his anger for a moment when he realized there were a few absences. "Where are Ron and Hermione?" he asked, leaning over his friend to grab a plate of potatoes.

Seamus shrugged. "They were here for about ten minutes, then Hermione hustled Ron away. They're probably working on the set again." He grinned. "She was ranting the whole time abut the Slytherins again."

Harry rolled his eyes, swallowing a bite of chicken before asking, "What'd they do this time?"

"They shredded the cloth for the costumes in a spontaneous charms fight," Ginny interrupted before Seamus could talk.

"Then they exploded paint on the walls in an attempt to recreate Jackson Pollock's art," Fred added, scooting down the bench to sit in front of Harry.

"Then they used the wood to start a bonfire and perform a pagan dance of evil," George finished, claiming a seat next to his brother.

Seamus nodded. "All direct quotes from our stage manager," he informed Harry.

Harry whistled. "Yeah," George agreed. "As much as I hate to admit it, those Slytherins are doing a fantastic job."

"They're all still a waste of air though," Ginny snapped. "I mean, they're just wasting time. What do they gain from all this?" She stabbed her fork at her meat then groaned. "Look at me. I don't even have anything to do with it and I'm getting ticked." She threw her hands up.

"Gain?" Fred laughed. "They do it cause it's fun. What else do they need?" He elbowed his twin and they both stood and walked away.

"They have permission from both Ron and Hermione to get as much revenge as they want on the Slytherins," Ginny grinned at Harry. "It's probably the only reason they're not bad-mouthing them right now."

Harry choked on his pumpkin juice. "As if they needed permission," he snorted.

"Right," Ginny said and stood from the bench. "Actually, revenge sounds like fun. I think I'm gonna join them." She waved good-bye and followed after her brothers, catching up to them quickly and throwing her arms around their shoulders, an act that almost pulled her off the floor.

Seamus laughed. "I have to say," he leaned towards Harry, "this play is turning out quite differently than I expected. How are you lessons going?"

Harry choked again, coughing for fully a minute before he finally had the breath to answer. "Lessons?" he asked, trying to keep his voice normal. It was a dismal failure. Even he could hear the squeak.

Seamus lifted a brow. "Yeah, lessons. You didn't think I wouldn't notice you getting better? Hell, even Malfoy doesn't look quite so disgusted when its your turn to speak. Lisa must be doing a damn fine job."

Harry gave a deep sigh of relief as his friend continued to ramble on. He hadn't figured it all out. That was good. The last thing Harry needed now was for everyone to know he was getting private lessons from a Slytherin, from Draco Malfoy.

Seamus stayed around for only a few more minutes. Then he saw Dean get up to leave and instantly stood, not bothering to say goodbye, and followed the taller boy out, leaving Harry alone on his bench. As students filed out of the Hall, Harry concentrated on his meal, the first he'd eaten all day, and tried to ignore the Almond Joy in the pocket of his robe. Thinking about it got him thinking about Malfoy, which just ticked him off.

Harry forced himself to finish his plate before finally taking out the candy and ripping the edge of the wrapper. The rich smell of the chocolate wafted up to him and Harry half-smiled. All of the chocolate he'd been able to get his hands on lately had gone straight to Malfoy, so Harry had been fighting off withdrawal for the last two weeks. Now though, he'd finally get another taste.

Harry took a bite and almost moaned. Never again, he swore. He was going to have at least one piece of chocolate every two days and to Hell with Malfoy! Opening eyes he hadn't realized he'd closed, Harry immediately locked gazes with the Slytherin he'd just mentally cursed.

Malfoy was watching him, smirking and obviously trying not to laugh. Harry blushed and stood, gathering his script, robe, and the remainder of the Almond Joy and leaving the Great Hall at just less than a run.

Why was it that Malfoy, and only Malfoy, ever seemed to catch him at his worst?

**A/N: I am so sorry for the wait! Um, I don't even have an excuse... So thanks for the reviews on the last chapter! By name: brionyjae, Dezra, trillium248, 13 eleMENTAL 31, SwarmOfFangirls, and Lilith91. Thanks for the support guys!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Romeo, Romeo...**

Harry spent Sunday in the library, Lisa at his side in Hermione's place correcting his essays over his shoulder. He hadn't seen Ron, Hermione or Dean all day, and he'd seen more than enough of Lavender and her giggling posse to last a lifetime. Lisa patted his shoulder with a half-smile when the high-pitched laughter sounded yet again from behind a stack of books only two tables away. "Sorry, Harry," she muttered softly and he shrugged. It was still better than anyone knowing the truth.

An hour before dinner, Harry stood from his chair and stretched. Then he took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. "My eyes are killing me," he complained looking down at Lisa with a half smile.

She stood from her chair and grinned. "Sorry. I guess you Gryffindors aren't quite as used to this sort of thing as Ravenclaws." She leaned over the table, gathering her scrolls and parchments into a neat pile.

Harry snorted and did the same. "You could say that. Hermione's the only one who could do an all day study session and come back fresh as a daisy," he commented, shaking his head a bit.

"How come you didn't just spend the day helping her with the set?" Lisa asked and slipped her belongings into her bag. "Your eyes would hurt less, I'm sure," she laughed.

The Gryffindor shook his head. "No way. First, they haven't asked." He could tell Lisa was about to break in so he waved a hand to stop her. "Second, no way am I going to volunteer for as long as those Slytherins are still showing up. I don't like watching my hard work going up in flames."

The girl laughed. "Oh, I heard about that! It's awful." She led the way around the table and Harry followed her to the door. He opened it for her, putting on a gentleman's show for the members of the gossip mill still hanging around, and walked her down the hall. "Do you think she'll be finished in time for the play?"

Harry shrugged. "Knowing Hermione? Probably. She's got Ron and Dean helping now too, so at least there's that." He shook his head. "It wouldn't surprise me if she gets half of Gryffindor in there before its all said and done."

Lisa giggled and nodded her agreement. "I could see that happening. Oh, hang on," she said, pausing mid-step and swinging her bag around to dig inside it for a moment. "I found something that should help," she trailed off, mumbling under her breath until she found what she was looking for. "Here we are!" she handed Harry a small rolled parchment with a victorious grin and started back down the hall, Harry keeping step.

The Gryffindor lifted his brows curiously, then unrolled the parchment. A few words were written on it, but Harry focused only on the three that he knew Hermione would love. "To make clothes," he read and grinned up at Lisa. "How did you know?"

Lisa shrugged. "Hermione has been quite vocal in her complaints lately. I figured I could at least do this." Harry smiled down at her as he stopped at the end of the hall and Lisa reached out to put a hand on his arm. She didn't need to say anything. He'd seen that faraway look and that smile often enough by now to know that she was thinking of Tuesday night and her upcoming trip to Hogsmeade.

He grinned back and watched her walk away, slipping the parchment into the pocket of his robe. She really was a nice girl, and his grades were improving already. Turning, Harry almost ran into another student, just barely managing to stop himself from colliding with the boy leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. "Sorry," he said automatically, not bothering to look up.

"That was truly touching, Potter," Malfoy's voice was dripping with sarcasm, stopping Harry mid-step in his way around. "Romeo and Juliet are together in real life as well. I've heard the rumors, but I must say," the blond drawled, pushing himself off the wall to look down his nose at the shorter boy, "I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it. You think she'd have better taste."

Harry rolled his eyes and tried to curb his temper. "What's it to you, Malfoy?" he asked, proud that most of his usual fire didn't show in the question. The other teen was helping him after all.

Malfoy's eyes narrowed and he lifted his chin, sneering "Not a thing," in a voice so cold it actually raised goose bumps on Harry's arms. He looked down, trying to rub the bumps away and when he turned his gaze back up, ready to loose a scathing reply, Malfoy had already stormed away. Harry watched the edge of the boy's robes disappear around a corner, completely confused. Whatever the hell that was, it made absolutely no sense.

"No Slytherin antics today?" Seamus asked Hermione as soon as the bushy haired witch sat down for dinner.

She shook her head. "Nope," she actually smiled for what seemed like the first time in a week. "We didn't tell them we were going to work on the set today. And we fire-proofed the balcony so they can't ruin it again."

"Proud of yourself, aren't you?" Ron laughed, dropping to sit next to Hermione. He immediately started piling food onto his plate, talking without looking away from his rapidly filling plate. "I'm just glad we finally finished that bloody balcony."

"You?" Hermione scoffed. "If I have to make it one more time, I'll scream!" She shook her head, clearly remembering the fate of her previous attempts.

"Speaking of," Harry broke in before his friends could launch into an extended discussion of the complete worthlessness of Slytherins as a stage crew, "I have something for you." He tossed Hermione the rolled parchment, taking a bite of his chicken as he watched her open it.

Hermione's eyes widened almost comically and she started bouncing happily in her seat. "Oh, gosh, Harry! How did you find this?"

"Me?" Harry laughed. "Hermione, if you couldn't find this spell how on earth do you suppose I could? Lisa found it for you. She thought it would help, you know, since your stage crew isn't."

"Ooh, she is the best girlfriend you've ever had!" Hermione squealed, jumping up from her seat. "Now I've got to go salvage what I can from what's left of the costume cloth." She spun around and ran from the room, her robes flying out behind her.

Ron laughed as he watched her go. "I'll have to agree with her, mate," he told Harry, turning back to his plate. "You did pick a good one this go, didn't you?"

Harry smiled and nodded, hoping Ron didn't notice that he was faking the agreement. He shouldn't have worried though. His friend was far too interested in his food.

By the time Monday afternoon arrived, Harry was actually looking forward to the rehearsal. For some reason or other, Malfoy had taken every opportunity to insult Harry and his friends, almost as if he was trying to start a fight. If Ron had had his way, the Slytherin would have succeeded and more than once.

As soon as he'd taken his seat in the circle though, Harry realized his mistake. Malfoy was directly across from him, and whatever had put him in such a bad mood hadn't yet been resolved if his cold glare was anything to go by. But at least during rehearsal, he could only say his lines and since his character had already died, Harry could expect a little relief for however long today's lasted.

Harry listened as the others read their lines, following along in his own script to avoid looking up. It didn't help though. He could still feel Malfoy's glare and it unsettled him more than it ever had before. He flipped the page in his script, lifting a hand to rub at his forehead, but it did nothing to ease the pressure starting to build up behind his eyes.

Next to him, Harry felt Seamus shift in his seat and knew the other boy was getting bored. He looked up slightly at the elbow digging into his side. He didn't have any lines this act, so that couldn't be why the Irish teen was trying to get his attention. Turning slightly, so he didn't have to look at the boy who was still glaring so intensely, Harry turned his attention to his friend, brows raised in question.

"Malfoy's glaring at you," Seamus whispered behind his hand and Harry rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, I know," he answered softly. "Nothing I can do about it."

"But why?" Seamus asked. Harry shook his head. He didn't have a clue, and somehow he didn't think the middle of Juliet's monologue was the time to find out. "Well, at least be a Gryffindor and meet his eyes!" the sandy-haired boy scolded. "You haven't turned down a challenge in the last five years. Why start now?" he finished, slouching back down in his seat and lifting the script to cover his face.

Harry leaned back in his own chair and flipped another page in his script, his eyes quickly finding and following as the Capulet half of the circle began to mourn Juliet. Seamus was right. Shying away from Malfoy wasn't something he'd ever done before. They'd always hated each other, they'd always glared at one another. It was routine, tradition by now. Just because they'd shared a few sessions of private lessons in the last week didn't change that fact.

Thinking about it and actually meeting Malfoy's glare were two completely separate things though and when Harry did finally look up, meeting that cold stare with his own anger, he couldn't even try to look away. There was something else in those grey depths, some emotion that didn't convey hatred, something that drained Harry's anger until his brows furrowed in confusion instead.

It didn't make sense! Malfoy was tense and frowning. His light brows were furrowed so deep that Harry could see the lines even from across the circle. Anyone looking at the Slytherin could tell that someone had pissed him off. Anyone with sense could tell that it was all directed at Gryffindor's golden boy. So then why was it that Harry couldn't sense any of that anger he'd believed was there? And if it hadn't been anger that had Malfoy sniping at him the last two days, just what was going on?

**A/N: Okay, I meant to write more, but it was getting a tad too long for my tastes. So even though it's kind of short, look on the positive side. I've already started the next chapter! Heh. Right. So thanks to GivenPeace13, Lady of the frozen black flame, Hyper Hippie, Draco and Hermione is like PBJ, trillium248, SwarmOfFanGirls, brionyjae, weapons kunoichi Xx, Death-God-777, YeahYouWannaKnowMyName, and LyricallyInspired. Holy crud, you guys have long names! That would get on my nerves whenevr I tried to long in! Anyway~ Reviews please! (And take into consideration that I'm really not much of a 'please' person before you decide not to!) **


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Told ya so!**

**Romeo, Romeo...**

Binns and Trelawney had promised a long rehearsal, so Harry wasn't surprised when they continued into the next Act. Harry was forced to tear his gaze away from Malfoy's, glancing back sown at his script though he'd already memorized the scene. The blond's steady gaze unnerved him, but Harry tried to ignore it as he read through Romeo and Paris' fight. He never did like Zacharias Smith, so it made him feel marginally better to hear the boy call out his death. It didn't last long though and Harry blushed heavily at his final words. Even if they weren't acting the scene yet, just knowing he would have to pretend to kiss Lisa was embarrassing enough.

Chewing nervously on his thumbnail, Harry followed along as the play continued after his death, blushing again when Lisa read her own farewell kiss to the awws of the other players. Seamus nugded Harry slightly and winked. If this was any sign, Harry knew that Lavender... hell, all the Gryffindor girls were going to get a kick out of the last Act. Even with Baddock's stumbling recitation, the rest of the reading went by rather quickly and Harry shot out of his chair as soon as Trelawney released them.

Seamus found him a short while later in the dorm, laying facedown on his bed and muttering into his pillow. "Er..." he started uncertainly then shrugged, "what's wrong, Harry?" Harry shook his head into the pillow, still mumbling to himself. "Harry?" Seamus tried again, leaning over to tap his friend's shoulder.

Harry sat up suddenly, turning so quickly he almost hit Seamus. "I don't get it!" he burst out, and Seamus' eyes widened as he took in the twin splotches of red on his cheeks.

"Uh..." the Irish boy stammered and flicked his gaze around the empty room. He hadn't meant it like a trick question. "Are you alright?" Seamus tried again.

Harry shoved his hands through his hair, then reached back to grab his pillow, pulling at the pillowcase in agitation. Seamus sat down on his mattress and reached out, but he may as well have not even been there. Harry paid him no attention, just standing and tossing his pillow back to the bed as he started to pace.

Seamus shrugged slightly and crossed his legs, watching. Obviously, something was bothering the other boy. "He wasn't angry, so why does he keep glaring at me?" Seamus heard Harry say softly and cocked his head. He?

Harry stopped pacing, looking down at Seamus as if just realizing the other boy was there. "You're right," he said suddenly and grinned down at him. Then without another word, Harry left the dorm, closing the door behind him. Seamus lifted a brow. Okay, so now he was confused. Then he shrugged and moved to flop on his own bed. It was interesting to know he could help Harry solve his problems without saying a word.

Waving absently to the Gryffindors who called out to him, Harry left the tower, stopping outside the portrait hole to look both ways curiously. Then he turned left, jogging quickly down a few flights of stairs and dodging through small bunches of students headed for the Great Hall.

He passed by the room, ignoring the delicious scent of dinner wafting through the air towards him. Harry paused again at the top of the stairs leading to the dungeons, then passed by. He wasn't sure what was leading him, but somehow he knew that the person he was looking for wasn't down there.

Even so, it was still surprising that the feeling led him straight to Malfoy. The boy was stalking through the hall leading from Divinations tower, shaking his head with a look of disgust. Harry didn't stop to think, acting the Gryffindor Seamus had demanded. Meeting the boy half-way, Harry grabbed the front of his robes to drag him into the nearest classroom, fortunately empty. "What the Hell is wrong with you?" he exclaimed, rounding on the Slytherin as soon as the door closed.

"With me?" Malfoy drawled, straightening the front of his robes. He didn't need to say anything else for Harry to know what was going through his mind. That one arrogantly lifted brow said enough, reminding the Gryffindor just who had accosted who.

"Ugh," Harry groaned, shoving a hand through his hair and scratching the back of his head. "Yes, you." He spun on his heel, dropping his hands into fists at his side and glaring up at Malfoy. "You've been a royal pain in the ass for the last two days! What's that about, huh?"

The blond glared down his nose at Harry. "You have your oh-so-smart Ravenclaw girlfriend now," he snarled, "why don't you go and ask her?" He took a step forward, using his greater height to tower over Harry, a move that Snape had been using for years as an intimidation technique. "For that matter, why don't you just have her teach you to act, as well? The less I have to deal with you, the better."

"What? What's that got to do with anything?" Harry muttered, drawing back to meet the Slytherin's gaze. That same emotion that had taken his anger away before was back in Malfoy's glare, and it had the same effect. He wasn't angry anymore, in fact, felt like he should explain. Such a strange urge, when he couldn't tell even his friends the truth.

"Wait a minute," he called, reaching out to pull Malfoy back from the door before the other teen could open it. "I said, hang on!"

Malfoy turned, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring down at Harry. "What else is there to say?" he drawled in the superior tone that rarely failed to piss him off.

Harry grit his teeth. That tone was really starting to wear down his resolve to be nice. "She's not my girlfriend," he started, fingering his tie lightly. "And I can't ask her to help me act. Neither of us have the time. She's...uh..." he trailed off. The Slytherin lifted a brow, waiting. "She just can't," Harry finished lamely, letting his hands drop. "There's somewhere else she's got to be, so I'm just helping her out."

The blond stared down at him, taking in Harry's earnest expression. "So in exchange for letting everyone believe you two are dating, she helps you with your class work," Malfoy guessed.

Harry nodded, vaguely surprised by the Slytherin's quick and correct assumption. "So you can't quit tutoring me. We had a deal," he reminded the other teen, though it brought back the feelings of humiliation that plagued that particular memory.

"You do still have a lot to learn," Malfoy conceded after a long silence. "Fine." They stared at each other for a few moments, until Harry began to fidget nervously. He wasn't quite used to this uncomfortable silence. Malfoy seemed to notice and without another word he turned, leaving the room and Harry behind.

Harry waited a little longer, then left the room as well. He paused at the entrance to the Great Hall, then shook his head to himself, turning instead to go upstairs. The Gryffindor common room was empty of course. It was dinnertime, after all, so no surprise there. Alone in his room, he fell back onto his bed, crossing his arms behind his head. He absently traced patterns in the heavy canopy that hung above each bunk, thinking. All of his anger had disappeared, taking his appetite with it, and as much as he tried, he didn't think he could revive either.

Harry knew he wasn't too smart. Unlike Hermione, he would never be called the cleverest wizard his age, and he didn't have near the same intelligence that a Ravenclaw like Lisa cherished. He may have been a little slow, but Harry was by no means dumb. Even so, it wasn't until after that look, that expression that had so confused him just an hour ago, had disappeared from Malfoy's gaze that Harry realized what it was. And he felt every bit the dunce Snape always accused him of for not having realized sooner. By now, The-Boy-Who-Lived should have been able to recognize jealousy.

**A/N: Nyeh, nyeh! Told you all I'd started. It's been written for a few says now but I wanted to put a little more time between the updates. Then, I got tired of waiting. Go figure. Anyway~ Thanks to BLEACHEDmarshmellow, Talking-Rock (for chapter 1), SwarmOfFanGirls, ragdolljazz, spiderfrommars, rainbowfreak, Draco and Hermione is like PBJ, brionyjae, YeahYouWannaKnowMyName, Dezra, Closet Chocoholic, PrincessPurity, Rukari, paintupurple, LyricallyInspired, niconico, and HiM'e'TSu. for the reviews. Wow, that was a lot! Hm. Oh, and I've started the next chapter already too! But don't expect as quick an update as this one. My muse is a fickle little (Beep)!**


	11. Chapter 11

The next morning found Harry slouched on the bench and picking at his breakfast even before most of his dorm had awakened. Seamus commented on the dark circles under his eyes and Dean mentioned that Harry had been skipping meals lately, which of course set Hermione on a thirty minute rant about the importance of meals, breakfast in particular, that Harry tried to ignore. He glared at the black boy as Hermione's voice rang sharply in his ear and regretted even the twinge of guilt he'd felt each time he'd sent Seamus his way.

Ron arrived then, plopping down on the bench next to Harry with a heavy sigh followed almost immediately by a yawn. Harry frowned worriedly. The red-head looked nearly as tired as he felt. "Alright there, Ron?" he asked, dropping his fork and all pretense of eating. Ron gave him a vague sort of look and nodded slowly before turning back to his meal with much less gusto than usual.

"Don't worry about him, Harry," Hermione cut in, taking a sip of her juice. "He's just tired."

"You'd be too," Ron broke off with another yawn, "if you stayed up all night working on that stupid shirt." He propped his chin on his hand, chewing slowly on a crisp slice of bacon.

"Please," Hermione snorted. "First, its a tunic, not a shirt, and second, I was up all night, remember?" she rolled her eyes. "I was working on Juliet's dress."

"You're a girl," Ron pointed out rather needlessly. It was something they'd all agreed upon several years ago, after all. "That clothes making thing is natural to you girls. Not so much for us boys," he finished, letting his eyes close as he chewed tiredly.

He missed the look Hermione gave him, which Harry figured was a good thing. "I'm going to chalk that bit of chauvinism up to your late night," she informed him primly. "Don't let it happen again." Harry recognized that tone of voice and he quickly looked down at his own uneaten breakfast. She'd be out for revenge if Ron wasn't a little more careful.

"Besides," Ron continued on a yawn, ignoring or not caring about Hermione's threat, "dress rehearsal isn't for a few more weeks. Why do we need costumes already?"

Hermione stifled her own yawn before answering in an exasperated tone, "We have more than one costume each, Ron. There's a whole cast to dress. Besides, we need to make sure they're perfect and that takes time." Ron nodded blankly and continued chewing, clearly too tired to say anything else.

Harry waited a few more moments, then stood to leave the table, but Hermione's hand on his arm made him look back down at the witch. "It's a bit early for it Harry, but would you mind letting us do a fitting on you?" she asked and lifted her cup for more juice. "I want to make sure we're doing this right."

He nodded and Hermione quickly told him when and where. It was a little longer before Harry could actually walk away. It would have been too rude to leave during another of Hermione's spiel about "those worthless Slytherins". When he could finally leave the table and start heading for class, Harry wasn't surprised that he managed, once again, to run into Malfoy at the door. It seemed his bad luck was holding steady.

While he did want to talk to Malfoy about that bit of jealousy, Harry hadn't quite figured out what to say to the blond. So he, very smartly, opened his mouth for a slow, "Uhhh..." then sidestepped the group and dodged through the open doors of the Great Hall, satisfied that he'd escaped some sort of confrontation. Not that Malfoy had seemed to be looking for one, but better safe than sorry after the way the last few days had been going.

He was surprised to find that Parkinson followed him through the doors, breaking away from the rest of Malfoy's herd, and was even more surprised when the Slytherin slipped her arm through his. "Uh...what are you doing?" he asked, trying for a brief moment to be polite, then giving it up entirely.

"Oh, Harry!" she slapped his arm playfully as he raised his brows at her use of his first name. "We never get to talk, even though we are both in the play and everything." Parkinson waved a hand airily and smiled winningly up at him.

It was all he could do not to shove her away and run as fast as he could in the opposite direction. But she was leading him right to his first class, and any delay for evasive maneuvers would make him late. So Harry resigned himself to her company and resolved to keep an eye out for some kind of Slytherin trick. But Parkinson was a snake after all, and Harry was hard-pressed to find any in her one-sided conversation. Then, as suddenly as she had appeared by his side, she strolled away, leaving him standing alone and confused at the door to the classroom.

It had been completely random, and to top it all off, she hadn't actually said anything that would concern him or the play. He crossed the room and sat in his usual seat, propping his chin on his hand as he contemplated the strangeness of girls, and Slytherins. When Seamus casually strolled in, smiling genuinely for what seemed the first time in weeks despite being a full five minutes late, Harry hardly took notice. He only blinked at him curiously before turning an empty stare back to the front of the classroom.

The sandy haired boy slid to sit next to Harry, nudging him slightly with the pointy elbow Harry was fast beginning to hate, and whispered, "Where are Ron and Hermione?" It was only then that Harry, having been so preoccupied with discovering Pansy Parkinson's motivation, discovered his two best friends in the whole wide wizarding world, who should have been seated on either side of him by now, were curiously, strangely, and definitely noticeably absent.

**A/N: Right, that's long enough for now, especially since it's been so long in coming. Yeah... Sorry about that! Anyhow, thanks to Draco and Hermione is like PBJ, SexySpeedDemon, painyupurple, brionyjae, niconico, SwarmOfFanGirls, HiM'e'iTSu, Rukari, spiderfrommars, LyricallyInspired, Death-God-777, purplerawr, PrincessPurity, and YeahYouWannaKnowMyName for the lovely reviews! Mwah!s to you all!**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: No chat. Just read on!**

After so many years of gaining strange, and sometimes unexplainable, injuries and illnesses, it was quite easy for Harry to once again fake being sick. After all, even if DADA was his favorite class, it still only paled in comparison to his friendship with Ron and Hermione. So, once excused, Harry headed immediately for his dorm, and the Marauder's map that was hidden under his mattress.

Scanning his eyes quickly over the map, Harry frowned when he finally located his friends' names. They were both moving quickly, running back and forth and in circles in the same room, the empty classroom Hermione had chosen for her props-making room. Harry folded the map and carefully slid it back into its hiding place, then charged out Gryffindor tower. It only took a few minutes to get to the room, where he could hear Hermione's shrieks and Ron's yelling through the heavy wooden door.

Their wands were just outside, as if carelessly dropped, and Harry bent to pick them up as he tested the handle of the door, frowning and muttering "Alohamora" when he realized it was locked. Though he should have taken the shouts as a warning, Harry just wasn't prepared to see why his friends were so obviously panicked and stared slack jawed even as Hermione ran past, the whizzing of the sword flying through the air after her coming close enough for Harry to feel the small breeze the move created.

"Oh, Harry!" she cried with relief, but didn't slow a bit as she ducked, letting the sword fly over her head only to be replaced by three others. "Help us please!"

"And make it quick like!" Ron demanded, nearly running into Hermione as he tried to escape his own batch of attacking rapiers.

Harry shook off his shock and, silently thanking Hermione for making him learn them after the whole flying keys debacle first year, cast several quick spells that made the swords clatter to the floor. Hermione and Ron both instantly slouched over, breathing heavily. "What happened?" Harry asked, pocketing his wand and cautiously picking up one of the rapiers to give it a test swing. It didn't _feel_ cursed.

"It....it was those... those ruddy Slytherins!" Ron growled, still trying to catch his breath. "They got us again!"

Hermione nodded then, obviously giving up to battle with her trembling knees, fell to sit on the floor, cold stone or not. "They couldn't do anything else," she explained, pulling her hair back from her face and waving her free hand like a fan. "So I told them to make the swords for us."

Harry looked down at the sword in his hand with faint surprise. It was Slytherin-made?

"But they found out we've been working without them, and decided they wanted revenge, I suppose." Hermione shrugged and scooted back to lean against the wall, not caring that her clothes were starting to get dirty. It was a sign of how tired she was, Harry was sure.

Ron moved to sit next her, his breath finally evening out. "They told us they finished and insisted we come check them out before class. Hermione," he sent the girl a glare that she ignored, "reckoned we had enough time and agreed. They set us up!"

She nodded, letting her hair fall and swiping her hand over her brow, trying to wipe away the sheen of sweat but succeeding only in smudging dirt across her brow. "They stole our wands then charmed the swords to attack us. We would have just left the room, but..." She waved a hand in the general direction of the door.

"They locked the door," Harry finished and Hermione nodded. He shook his head and passed the two their wands. "How long have you been here?"

Ron shrugged, but Hermione, grateful to once more be in possession of her wand, cast a tempus and groaned. "Nearly forty minutes!" she sighed, letting her head fall back against the wall and surveying the room. Then she groaned again and closed her eyes. "They've ruined it all again!"

And they had. Rapiers were sticking straight out, some embedded nearly to the hilt in the balcony, evidence that fire proofing did nothing to stop high speed flying metal objects. "Look on the bright side," Harry suggested and flinched under the double glare his friends shot him, "at least we have the swords ready."

Hermione let her head fall into her hands, shaking it softly. Ron was more enthusiastic with his opinion. It may have lacked words, but the constant banging of his head on the wall behind him was sign enough that he disagreed with Harry's "bright side".

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Lunch was a quiet affair. At least, it was at the Gryffindor table, where Ron and Hermione's gloom seemed contagious. The Slytherin table, by contrast, was more loud and boisterous than ever, some members of that dark house congratulating one another on yet again pulling one over on the lions.

"I don't understand," Ginny pouted, chin in hand as she glared down at her sandwich. "We've hit them with dungbombs, booby-trapped their entrance portrait, and slipped some of Fred and George's candies into their food. How are they _still_ getting the better of us?"

Even the twins, seated on either side of their sister, had no answer, but they were impervious to the general air of despair that floated over the long table. "Cheer up, Gin," Fred grinned, throwing and arm over the girl's shoulder. "For as long as they keep going, so do we!"

George nodded his agreement, lifting his cup in a toast before taking a sip. "No one has outlasted the Weasley twins at their own game, little sis. We're not about to let our record go to waste now. It's all we'll have to leave this school with when we graduate!"

Hermione gave the boys a sad smile and stood from the table. "Come on, Ron," she said mournfully. "We've got a balcony to repair. Again." Ron groaned but stood from the bench, casting a glare at the Slytherin table that went unnoticed as he pulled Dean along with him.

Harry waited a few more minutes, pretending to listen to the twins chatter while keeping an eye on the Slytherin table. When Malfoy stood, pausing as expected to straighten his robes, Harry excused himself and hurried to the door. Not that anyone was paying him any mind. Fred and George had claimed the attention of most of the table as they quietly outlined a new plan of attack for what was fast becoming a war of the houses.

He managed to make it out of the Great Hall before Malfoy, but the blond didn't appear the slightest surprised that Harry was waiting for him on the other side of the door. He simply lifted a brow and tilted his head just so to the left. Harry nodded and followed the other boy to down the corridor and around the corner. "What is it now, Potter?" Malfoy finally asked, examining his nails with an air of carelessness. "And make this fast. I'd rather not be late for class."

"I'm not stupid, Malfoy," Harry started.

Malfoy interrupted with a snort. "That's debatable, but continue, please," he waved a hand at Harry imperiously.

Harry fought to hold in his anger. Swear to Merlin, he was learning more self-control from Malfoy than he'd managed to learn in the years since he'd first come to Hogwarts. "I know what you're doing," Harry continued after several calming breaths. The look on Malfoy's face said he didn't, but Harry pressed on. "You're sending your Slytherins after my friends on purpose, aren't you?"

Malfoy's face remained impassive, giving Harry no sign that he was right, or wrong. He shook his head, shoving a frustrated hand through his hair. He knew it turned that sorry case into a nightmare, but at the moment, hair control couldn't be further from his mind. "Malfoy, you're jealous."

The taller boy's eyes narrowed dangerously and he crossed his arms over his chest, assuming a casual position leaning against the wall. Harry wasn't fooled. It was thin ice he was treading on, but he steeled his resolve. This was for Hermione and Ron, after all. And that blasted balcony! "Jealous?" Malfoy hissed the word, and Harry almost shivered at the frosty tone.

Harry nodded slowly. "But you don't need to be," he insisted, taking off his glasses and cleaning them on his robe. They weren't really dirty, but at least this way, he wouldn't have to see Malfoy's face as he spoke. "Well, not of me, anyway. She's going out with someone else. Not me, b-but some wizard that graduated already." He slipped his glasses back on, and looked up, expecting to regret the move.

Far from angry, Malfoy seemed amused. There was even the faintest hint of laughter in his voice when he asked, "Lisa? You think I'm jealous of you and Lisa?" Then, apparently unable to subdue his humor any longer, Malfoy spun on his heel and strolled away, shoulders shaking from the soft laughter that floated back towards Harry.

"So, are you going to call them off?" he asked, less and less sure of his conclusion with every step further away Malfoy took. Harry wasn't surprised that he didn't received an answer. He was too busy being confused.

Students were coming down the hall now, chattering to one another and generally ignoring Harry as he made his way through the crowd and up the stairs, heading absently toward his next class. Waiting for the room to fill up after he'd taken his seat gave Harry time to sort his thoughts a bit.

He'd been wrong? Not that it hadn't been known to happen, but about what he'd seen? He'd been so sure that Malfoy was jealous, so sure that it was the root of all of Hermione's problems. Instead of answering his questions, Harry had more than ever. If Malfoy hadn't ordered it, what were the Slytherins up to? And why did that husky chuckle send shivers tingling down his spine?

**A/N: Alright, I really wanted to post tonight so I finished this chapter up even though I really wanted to make it a bit longer. Oh, well. At least there's a new chapter now, right? .... Yeah... Anyways~ Thanks to Draco and Hermione is like PBJ, DarkWiccanPrincess, LyricallyInspired, Sophia Anna-Mae, boredom is a crime (sorry! set up chaps are necessary too though!), Rikuri, SexySpeedDemon, brionyjae, purplerawr, HiM'e'TSu, Lady-Umbreon, and paintupurple for the reviews! You all are awesome! I'd blow you kisses, but...it's online, you know. How would you get them?**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: I was reading back through the chapters, you know, to get a feel for the story again, when I noticed I made a pretty important mistake in chapter 9. No one mentioned it to me! But doesn't matter anymore, because I fixed it. So nyeh, nyeh! You guys missed it! Heh. Also, in celebration of last chapter having the most reviews of the 12, I've made this one a bit longer than usual. Anyway~ Story time!**

**Romeo, Romeo**

Fred and George were nothing if not quick. By Wednesday afternoon, they had a plan, and were ready to put it into action just as soon as they could gather the ingredients for the potion. Sadly, they had been delayed. Snape had wised up to his missing supplies and had chosen to change the storage locks at the most inopportune time. It had taken the twins the entire rest of the week to break past the various magical seals.

Surprisingly, Hermione knew about the plan, and did nothing to stop it. Sitting in their usual chairs in the common room, she and Ron were working steadily for the good of the play. Harry stood before the fireplace, dressed in Romeo's half-finished tunic and trying not to yawn as Hermione eyed him critically, making small adjustments here and there to Ron's surprisingly decent work. The boring task allowed his mind to wander and rather than focusing on the self-conscious feelings that should be plaguing him, dressed as he was in front of all of Gryffindor, he concentrated on the mystery that was Malfoy.

After his confrontation with the other boy, Harry had been surprised to find that Malfoy was still ready to uphold his side of the deal. As usual, Harry was late. Even so, the blond was waiting for him and, more importantly, for his chocolate. But their lesson had been cut short. Though Harry had managed to inject emotion into the lines as Malfoy demanded, the Slytherin had interrupted him mid-sentence. "Time's up," he'd informed Harry with a tight smile and picked up his chocolates on his way to the door.

"Hang on," Harry had called, half-rising from his desk in a panic he couldn't quite explain. "We haven't finished the Act yet."

Malfoy had looked back, brow raised. "That's your problem. You were the one who was late. I do have other obligations, Potter," he'd reminded Harry, completely unsympathetic, and left without another glance. And for the whole week, while the rest of Gryffindor put on a good show of support and rallied behind their beleaguered stage crew, Harry was operating in absolute basket-case mode, something he was only able to hide thanks to his lack of energy.

Malfoy had haunted his dreams, night after night. He'd hardly slept since Tuesday, that husky chuckle reverberating through his mind and making him wake in a cold sweat each time he'd finally managed to slip off. The Slytherin's smile, his hair, even the way he savored a simple chocolate bar constantly floated to the front of his brain, disturbing him enough that behaving normally would have been a trial had he not been so utterly exhausted.

Harry had been counting on relaxing during rehearsal, but they'd finished the first reading Thursday and when Monday came back around, Trelawney had separated the actors into smaller groups.

He envied the students with less important roles. For them, rehearsals had been cut to once a week. But for Harry, it was nearly two hours of more individualized torture. The thirty minutes or so that Trelawney had paired him with Seamus hadn't been so bad. It was the rest of the time that he spent practicing his lines with Lisa that really sent the day in a downward spiral to terrible.

Lisa was sweet. She was patient and understanding, and smart, the perfect mix of "girl" and "Ravenclaw", and because she was Juliet to his Romeo, Trelawney and Binns had more than once had to call the other pairs' attention back to their own reciting. But exchanging the lines with Lisa that he'd only a week before studied with Malfoy somehow just felt wrong.

Then, as Harry was bidding Romeo's farewell to the girl, he'd felt that familiar glare on his back. The blood that, much to Lisa's amusement, had been heating his cheeks in a blush for the better part of the rehearsal drained from his face when he took a glance over his shoulder to find Malfoy staring with narrowed eyes in his direction. The Slytherin snapped his own lines at a terrified Hannah Abbot and Terry Boot, both shrinking back slightly.

Harry would have bet all the galleons in his vault that the two were wishing they'd been selected as the Montague parents rather than the Capulet, because at that moment, he was wishing he'd been selected as anyone but Romeo.

The rest of that rehearsal had passed in a blur, with Harry trying to ignore the feeling that he was being watched intensely and Lisa laughing at his discomfort. "It's just a play," she reminded him more than once, and Harry didn't bother to correct her assumption. She didn't need to know that he was always, always aware of Malfoy's presence in the room, of Malfoy's glare on him.

He needed to talk to someone about it, had tried more than once to bring it up to one of his friends. But Hermione kept Ron, Dean, and herself busy with the set, trying to repair the damage the Slytherins had caused and trying to proof it against anything else the buggers might come up with. Harry didn't think such young wizards, even ones with connections like the Slytherins, would be able to get their hands on a dragon, but Hermione had insisted on prepping the set even for that unlikely case. It was time-consuming, and today had been the first time Harry had seen the three outside of class. Even Seamus had been unavailable, alternating between Dean-hunting and vanishing completely.

Briefly, Harry had considered discussing his problem with Lisa, but decided against it. He wasn't entirely sure why he didn't want Malfoy to find the two of them together outside their usual meeting time, but he didn't want to risk it. The fact that he cared at all what Malfoy would think only added to his confusion. Then, when he'd had the chance to ask her, sitting alone with the Ravenclaw in the library that Sunday, he'd let it pass, choosing instead to put more concentration in a Transfigurations essay than he'd ever had. McGonagall would be so proud.

So he suffered alone, wishing for the first time in his life that he was at least as smart as Hermione. Then he'd have been able to figure out the problem on his own and finally gotten some sleep. Harry suppressed another yawn, blushing slightly at Hermione's quick glare, and straightened his back.

"How come you're not trying to stop them, 'Mione?" Ron's question broke into Harry's thoughts, and he looked over at his friend. The red-head was holding up one of the swords and glaring at it as he muttered a charm that rounded the sharp edge. Just looking at the boy, it took Harry a moment to realize that Ron was talking about the plan that Fred and George had developed.

Hermione gave a careless shrug, narrowing her eyes at a loose seam and quickly fixing it. "I've got my eyes too closely on that darn balcony to notice anything else. I can't care about what I can't see, now can I?" she answered oh-so-innocently and turned her attention back to her costume-making. Ron grinned at her proudly until she ordered him back to work. The rapiers the Slytherins had made weren't going to dull themselves and after their last performance, there was no way she'd leave them as they were.

It was the Monday after the flying sword incident and the twins were finally ready to put their plan in action. Even now, the two were downstairs in the kitchen, readying their revenge, and excitement filled the air as the students waited impatiently for dinner to begin.

Disappointment soon took over though. The wide grins on the Weasley boys' faces indicated a job well done, but the students at the Slytherin table seemed completely normal. "This business isn't always about being flashy," Fred explained to Harry and Ron around a mouthful of chicken.

"It's about being sneaky sometimes too. Psychological warfare, mates. It comes to that sometimes," George told them and leaned back on the bench to watch as his current rivals, the entire of Slytherin house, unsuspectingly ate their meal.

Harry kept his head down and said nothing. How would his dorm-mates feel if they knew, even after everything the Slytherin majority of the stage crew had done, even after years of fighting between the two houses, that at that moment, Harry wanted nothing more than to stop the leader of that house from his fair share of payback? Shock, awe, possibly anger....definitely anger. He sighed softly and pushed his chicken across his plate before half-heartedly taking a few bites of potato.

Despite moving his food around more than actually eating it, Harry waited at his table until the Great Hall was mostly emptied, watching as students rose and left in pairs or groups. Malfoy had been one of the first to leave.

It wasn't until Seamus left that Harry finally started to make his way up the stairs to the dorm. But he still couldn't find the opportunity to talk to the Irish boy. Seamus was too concerned with trying to get Dean to pay enough attention to him to carry on a conversation. So far, Dean found sketching the design for the remainder of the props much more absorbing and was putting an awful lot of effort into ignoring his accident- prone friend.

It was a sign of his frustration that when Harry noticed Neville alone in their dorm room, he actually considered discussing his problem with him. He changed into his pajamas slowly, debating the pros and cons. Finally, he decided to go for it and spun on his heel, mouth open and ready to burst out all these curious thoughts rattling through his brain like an out of control train, causing massive confusion and hinting at future disaster.

But he'd taken too long. Neville was curled under his sheets, his quiet snores sounding loud through the room, now that Harry's brain had paused long enough to hear them.

The fates were against him. God was against him. Whoever the heck it was that controlled what happened and when, was against him. It was the only explanation. How else would every single one of his friends find themselves too preoccupied to pay him any mind at exactly the same time? Harry slipped under the covers of his bed and crossed his arms under his head as he stared blankly at the canopy above him, settling in for another night of restlessness.

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The twins' plan went off without a hitch and their insomnia inducing potion became an instant hit with the consumers on their "black market". Weary-eyed Slytherins, complete with dark circles and dulled reactions, were a source of entertainment for every class, every bone-cracking yawn upping the popularity of the potion. Fred and George would be making money hand over foot.

Even Snape grew frustrated with his house, taking points from a few Slytherins for what had to be the first time in years. It certainly lifted a few eyebrows on Harry's side of the room.

Classes were over just as Harry was beginning to enjoy himself. After all, it wasn't every day that students actually fell off their chairs from sleep deprivation. Hermione was clearly satisfied, even going so far as to slap Ron's hand under the table, the closest she'd ever come to a high-five.

But Harry didn't join in the celebration, only offering a smile when other Gryffindors started talking about it. It being Tuesday afternoon, he had another lesson with Malfoy and he wasn't sure what to expect. Somehow, it just didn't seem right to him that all of Slytherin had been punished just because a few of them had taken action against some of the Gryffindors, and he did know that Malfoy wouldn't appreciate it.

His final class of the day had been cancelled. Professor Sprout obviously had much more sympathy for the Slytherins, who couldn't stay awake long enough to prune regular roses, forget the ones that fought back, than their other teachers had. So Harry sat alone in his dorm, turning over the small box of chocolates, all Almond Joys this time, in his hands and thinking about what to say to Malfoy.

He was on time today, didn't have an excuse not to be, but he still opened the door carefully, not sure if the Slytherin was even going to be there. What he saw made him pause in the doorway, staring in shock. It was several quiet minutes before he shook himself out of his surprise and moved further into the room, closing the door behind him.

Malfoy was there, as usual having beat Harry to the room, but he was sleeping, his head cradled in the curve of one arm and his other hand resting atop his rarely used script, elegant fingers curled in a loose fist. Harry moved closer, trying to stay quiet. He'd never seen the other boy asleep before and the difference was nothing short of amazing.

While awake, Malfoy always seemed to look at Harry with a sneer or anger, his face harsh and his eyes cold. In sleep, his face was completely relaxed, soft blond lashes splayed across pale cheeks and barely open lips that let out deep, even breaths.

Harry stared blankly at the tanned hand that reached out, only inches from touching the hair that had slipped over Malfoy's brow before it struck him that it was his own. He hadn't even realized that he'd moved his hand, but since it was already there, no point in not continuing. Malfoy's hair was a soft as it looked, but the feel of it slipping past his fingertips brought Harry crashing back to earth and he drew away, sliding to sit into a chair several desks from his tutor.

What was wrong with him? Touching another boy's hair, and while the boy was sleeping? Harry knew what it would have looked like if anyone had seen it. He dug his hand into his hair and dropped his chin to the desk. Then, he sat back up immediately, shifting to set the chocolates on the desk next to him before resuming his slumping. Even if the boy slept through the entire lesson, it would be a sin to let an Almond Joy melt in his hands, even more so for a box of them.

Though he resolved not to let it happen, Harry's eyes drifted to and stayed on the unguarded face of his Slytherin rival. Malfoy had been running through his mind for the past week, had been keeping him awake at nights. The concern over what Malfoy thought, the worry over what he'd thought was jealousy, wanting to save the boy from the twins' prank war, and the confusion brought on by it all. He'd been trying for days to figure out why mattered. It took seeing the boy like this, Harry smiled at the soft snore that briefly interrupted his thoughts, for him to realize the answer.

It sounded a lot like the way Seamus acted to Dean sometimes, like how Hermione acted to Ron when she thought no one was looking. It had taken him so long, because the feeling of serene warmth that he felt even now combined with the twisting mass of nervous energy he became when Malfoy was awake, was all so different than anything he'd experienced he was when he thought he'd been in love with Cho Chang.

Harry was beginning to suspect he was getting a small, teensy-weensy, insignificant, never ever to be acted upon, crush on Draco Malfoy.

But right now, with the sense of peace that flooded the room, and the drowsiness that blurred the edges of his vision as it slowly took over, Harry couldn't even force himself to be the slightest panicked at the realization.

For the first time in days, his brain slowed to a halt, the thoughts that had kept him awake faded into the background. He watched Malfoy silently, the sun sinking ever lower in the sky, and couldn't find the energy to be concerned that it wasn't right to feel so comfortable in the presence of the boy who taunted and teased him for years.

Harry smiled as Malfoy let out another gentle snore and let his eyes close, reminding his tired brain with one last thought before fully succumbing to deep sleep: _I've got to get a second opinion_.

**A/N: Okay. Not really sure how I feel about this chapter. I tried to illustrate Harry's "basket case" mode over everything, and I'm not too sure it came out how I wanted it. So let me know what you think, ok? And thanks to those who let me know what they thought about the last chapter: Rikuri, latextoa, jenamy, LyricallyInspired, HiM'e'TSu, ForeverRose123, Draco and Hermione is like PBJ, DarkWiccanPrincess, xHinata Uzumakix, Lady-Umbreon, purplerawr, SunshineAndDaisies, SexySpeedDemon, paintupurple, brionyjae, and Sophia Anna-Mae. See, look it. That's 16! And a lot of them are new! Awesome. Really!**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Hello all! I'm actually really proud of myself. I was reading and I thought, I should write something. So I did. All in one sitting! Whoot! And moving on....**

Someone was touching his hair, brushing strands away from his forehead with gentle fingers, and Harry shifted drowsily in the chair. It was a pleasant feeling, that soft caress, and he didn't relish the thought that he'd have to wake soon and face the knowledge that he'd only dreamed it.

He jolted awake quickly when a sharp pain hit directly between his brows, though it took him a few blinks to focus on the figure standing just in front of him and a few more to figure out that the boy had flicked his head. "Wake up, Potter," Malfoy's dry voice ordered as he pulled his hand back. "You're drooling and you've wasted the whole lesson."

Harry groaned then and straightened his glasses before brushing a hand over his mouth. "You were sleeping when I got here," he protested, sitting up in the chair. He lifted his arms above his head, stretching. It didn't quite seem fair that, after causing Harry several sleepless nights, Malfoy had woken him from the first restful slumber he'd managed just to blame him for wasting time they both spent sleeping anyway.

"You should have woken me." Malfoy leaned back against the teacher's desk and sent a longing glance to the box of chocolates, still unopened. "As it is, if we leave now, we might get back to our dorms before curfew."

Harry stood from his seat then, so quickly that his chair fell backwards, clattering against the floor, and finally noticed the deep darkness of the sky outside, always the most obvious indication of the time. "Why didn't you wake me sooner?" he moaned, moving quickly to the door. Staying out past curfew was no problem for Malfoy. He was a prefect. But for Harry, who wasn't, it could get him into serious trouble. The last thing he needed was detention. He tripped no less than three times in the darkness, cursing his stupidity for not thinking of using his wand for light until he'd already crashed into the door.

"I was unaware that my job description according to the terms of our agreement included alarm clock, Potter," Malfoy answered and Harry glared over his shoulder at the Slytherin. The blond had done what Harry hadn't thought of and held his glowing wand aloft, the soft light helping him to cross the room without so much as bumping a shin. Malfoy stood behind him, his face expressionless as he looked down at Harry. "As all of Slytherin seemed to suffer from insomnia on the same night," he remarked casually, "I imagine that your house was somehow involved."

Even in the low light, Harry was sure Malfoy, standing only a foot away, could see the guilty flush that rose to his cheeks. "I'm sorry. It wasn't my idea and I wanted to warn you but..." he trailed off. Finishing that sentence would reveal more about Harry's revelations that he ever wanted Malfoy to know, so he chose instead to just clamp his mouth shut.

Malfoy nodded once. He understood the loyalty that was due to one's house, after all. He looked down at the box in his hand and held it out to Harry with a deep sigh. "For whatever reason, we were unable to have our lesson today. As much as I'd like to keep the chocolate anyway, it would be dishonest."

He pushed the box into Harry's hands with the air of someone who felt he'd regret the move if he didn't get it over with quickly. Then he moved around Harry and reached for the door. "Malfoy," Harry called and turned sharply, ripping open the package as he moved. He was slightly startled to find the boy much closer than before, and stepped back almost involuntarily. "Ummm, here," he held out an Almond Joy taken from the hastily opened box.

Malfoy lifted a brow and looked between Harry and the chocolate. It was obvious he wanted to take it, but for a moment Harry wasn't sure he would. "An exchange then, Potter," the Slytherin said softly and reached out for the bar, his warm hand resting over Harry's. Without pulling the candy away, Malfoy leaned down to whisper conspiratorially in Harry's ear, though there was no one around who could possibly hear, "My Slytherins are _dying_ for revenge and a smart lion would do well to keep a careful eye out."

Then Malfoy was gone, the door opening and closing behind him so quickly that Harry might not have believed the boy had actually left if the empty room around him wasn't the proof. He walked out much more slowly than he should have, considering the prefects would soon begin making rounds, looking for students out past curfew. But his mind was too busy with other things to focus on only a vague possibility of being caught. Things like Malfoy's warning, Malfoy's honesty, and the calmness of Malfoy's sleeping face.

Halfway to Gryffindor Tower, Harry was struck by the memory of his drowsy realization. Though late in coming, his panic hit him head on and he froze, standing alone in the darkened hall.

_He_ had a crush on Malfoy.

He had a _crush_ on Malfoy?

He had a crush on _Malfoy_!

Why wasn't that something he could have figured out before he'd seen that the blond could be kind? Then he at least could have kept telling himself that it was ridiculous and eventually moved on. Harry looked down at the box, only one chocolate missing from the dozen and closed his eyes. That bit of integrity Malfoy had shown had been completely unexpected and Harry knew, he just _knew_, that he would be thinking about it, and thus about Malfoy, much more than he'd ever actually admit.

The sound of footsteps and soft voices echoing down the hall toward him was the only thing that set Harry back in motion. He was thankful to find the common room mostly empty and quickly made his way up the stairs to his bed, which would be much more comfortable than a cramped desk. Even so, he wasn't sure he'd be able to get to sleep that night, after his several hours long nap.

He showered and dressed in clean pajamas before slipping beneath his blankets. Curled in his bed, he shifted to slip his hand under his cheek, then pulled it back to stare at his fingers. The warmth of Malfoy's hand on his still clung to his memory and Harry could swear that he could feel the other boy even now. He smiled at the thought.

In the bright light the following morning, he might feel embarrassed and a bit silly, but that night, with only the faintest moonlight breaking through the curtains, it seemed perfectly natural that he curled his hand next to his head and imagined that the gentle touch that had stirred him earlier had been Malfoy's fingers, silently and sweetly calming his worries and thoughts. And Harry fell blissfully into sleep.

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It didn't take long at all for Harry to discover what Malfoy had meant in that whispered warning of revenge. He was awakened much earlier on Thursday morning than he appreciated. But it was hard to ignore the many screaming, screeching and yelling Gryffindors outside the dorm room door.

Sitting quickly, Harry rubbed the sleep from his eyes and stuck his head through the curtains on his bed. While the anger on the other side of the door was loud enough, it could only be called whispers when compared to Ron's furious roaring. "Look what those rats did, Harry!" Ron cried, only half-dressed and waving his tie in one hand and his robe in the other.

At first, Harry couldn't tell what was wrong. Then Ron paused his jerky movements to yell at Seamus and Harry choked back a gasp. Throwing his blankets aside and rushing from his bed, Harry moved to his own trunk, pulling out articles of his school uniform one by one.

It was there, on every single bit of Hogwarts issued clothing. The brilliant gold and scarlet that he'd become so used to, identified so closely with, were gone, replaced by Slytherin green and silver, right down to his quidditch robes. A glance around the room showed Dean and Seamus with similar expressions of shock. Only Neville seemed uncaring, but Harry had the sneaking suspicion that it was because, despite being almost fully dressed, Neville had yet to open his eyes.

With nothing else to wear, Harry reluctantly dressed. Ron followed suite, but not without grumbling his complaints. At least he wasn't yelling any longer and the silence in the room let Harry hear what was being said outside. From what he could gather, the same phenomenon had happened to every Gryffindor and a crowd had formed leading all the way to the dorm Fred and George shared with their year mates.

By the time they made their way to the common room, the twins were still unable to control the situation. It wasn't that they weren't trying, but once angered, it was difficult to calm a mob, especially one bent on laying blame. That the walls were now tinted green instead of their usual dusty red probably didn't help matters any. "We have to be honest with you," Fred admitted from his position standing atop one of the small but sturdy tables scattered about the room. "We've got no idea how they did this." He pulled at his tie, obviously uncomfortable wearing the colors of his rivals.

George was on another table nearby, rolling his sleeves up to hide the colors at his wrist, even if he couldn't do much about his tie. "You have to admit, it's pretty good, though," he commented with a winning smile.

Harry glanced down, wondering if he looked half as strange as the Weasleys did in green and silver. "This is all your fault!" he heard Lavender cry out and looked over at the girl. She seemed on the verge of tears and twisted her sweater tightly between her hands, as if by abusing the material she could change the colors back. "If you'd only kept it to that rotten stage crew, the rest of us wouldn't have to suffer!" Murmurs of assent rippled through the group.

"Oh, please. This is hardly suffering," Hermione called from the back of the room. To everyone else, she appeared completely unconcerned about the change in her uniform, merely straightening her tie as she stood on the bottom step of the girls' stairs. Harry knew otherwise though, and he and Ron exchanged nervous glances. When Hermione got so coldly angry that she seemed utterly calm, it never ended well. "Two days ago, you were laughing just as much as the rest of us when you watched Goyle fall dead asleep out of his chair."

"Yeah," George chimed in. "This isn't the time for second thoughts or regrets, crew! It's too late for that now."

"That's right. This is war and we're not the sort to give in. We're Gryffindors!" Fred cheered, clapping at the half-hearted reply he gained from the assembly. While the twins' enthusiasm could easily sway the lower years, many of the older students still looked unsatisfied.

"We don't have time to turn on our own," Hermione pointed out, putting her fists on her hips as she surveyed the room. "Those snakes have attacked our home base. Sure we'll have to suffer this ... indignity, but anyone who thinks we'll be letting them get away with it is beyond mistaken. Fred, George," the twins stood at rigid attention on their tables, acting the soldiers their speech had made them out to be, "It's time to hit them where it hurts."

The supreme confidence in Hermione's voice, coupled with the mischievous grins that broke out on the twins' faces, reassured the Gryffindors where words couldn't and even Lavender seemed satisfied with the promise of retaliation. Ron clapped Harry on the back, cheered despite the Slytherin colors he sported.

Harry was less than happy. The whole situation had gotten out of hand. Hermione was a general, and Fred and George, twin princes of chaos, her next in commands. With all of Gryffindor rallying behind them, even in borrowed colors, there was just no way this would end simply or quickly. And he could tell, by the girl's voice, that she already had a plan, and by her dark smile, that the Slytherins would most certainly regret pushing this particular stage manager over the limit.

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Harry regretted ever thinking that Thursdays were awful. Even that first Thursday that had brought him to that first horrible rehearsal was nothing compared to today. He heard the saying many times before, that clothes make the man, but it had never occurred to him that the saying also meant the colors of those clothes.

All day long, Slytherins had been commenting on the color of his uniform, tauntingly welcoming the "new Slytherins" to school. Harry could tell by the tightness of Ron's mouth that he was quickly getting fed up. But Hermione had warned him not to react, and as surely as if it had been a spell, Ron was holding back his temper, placing complete faith in the girl's ability to keep her word. And why not? Once Hermione Granger made a promise, she carried it through to the letter.

Hermione skipped lunch. McGonagall ignored her absence in Transfigurations, and she'd faked illness to be excused from both DADA and History of Magic. She was no where to be found during their study period, and though Harry and Ron pressed her for answers all through their potions class, she refused to tell them what she'd been doing all day. She only glanced coolly at the Slytherin side of the room as the members of that house snickered and whispered to one another, pointing every so often in their direction.

Harry tried to ignore Malfoy. He knew what he'd find in the other boy's eyes if he looked. After all, Harry hadn't taken the warning, hadn't proved himself a "smart lion" and had somehow managed to fall into the same trap every other Gryffindor had. "Cheer up, Potter," Malfoy told him later that evening, standing across from Harry as they practiced their lines under the careful scrutiny of Professor Trelawney. "It should only last for a few days. And take it from someone with taste. Green is your color."

Harry frowned. He'd been hoping for a way to reverse the spell, not comments on what color went well with his looks. So it was with particular satisfaction that Harry read Romeo's reply to Tybalt, his eyes narrowing as he finally met the other boy's eyes to finish, reading the actions aloud. "They fight, Tybalt falls."

Malfoy only smiled at him and turned away, listening with a careful ear as Trelawney offered her suggestions with a dramatic waving of arms and scarves. Harry could've gone his whole life without seeing that smile. It was just that sort of smile that could make his tiny crush grow, making it much more difficult to ignore.

**A/N: Wow, the response on the last chapter was awesome! At least, **_**I**_** think so. Eighteen reviews and so quickly given! Thanks LyricallyInspired, Lady-Umbreon, DarkWiccanPrincess, HiM'e'TSu, wWwQuIzZiCaLwWw, AlineDaryen, purplerawr, RebeccaMarieCullen, jenamy, brionyjae, Draco and Hermione is like PBJ, xHinata Uzumakix, SunshineAndDaisies, nowle, HeartofaGoddess2009, SexySpeedDemon, XxScarletPhantomxX, and paintupurple for the wonderful reviews. Even better, some of you guys are new! Or else you changed you name, in which case, quit it! You confuse me! Only joking. Once again, thanks for reviewing and thanks also for reading!**


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Quickly now...**

Harry had long since learned that people held different views on the matter of revenge. For some, like Ron and many other Gryffindors, payback was instant, that urge to immediately react to any slight without thought for the consequences. It often led to fighting, detentions, and most frequently, the loss of house points, but nothing too bad

Then there were those like Fred and George, who preferred quick and often amusing retaliation, in keeping with their generally cheerful personalities. They had no desire to be outdone and, if released to their full potential, could cause damage of all sorts, like the psychological scar that was Ron's arachnophobia. And of course, everything they did would eventually be for sale to the students of Hogwarts.

Of course, there were those who didn't care much for revenge, choosing instead to laugh off or ignore an insult. "Love thy enemy". It was a Hufflepuff thing, but looking at Draco Malfoy from across the Great Hall each meal made him wonder if it couldn't become a Harry Potter thing. When that thought crossed his mind, Harry blushed, ducked his head and kept his eyes trained on his plate. Looking up wasn't very safe anymore.

Hermione Granger, though, was in a class of her own. Ron could be called a small bomb with a short fuse, one that exploded often but never too badly. By contrast, Hermione was a large bomb with a long fuse. It took a while for the explosion to come, but when it did, somebody was going to pay dearly for striking that match.

She refused to tell either Harry or Ron her plan and the days passed slowly. As Malfoy had promised, the Slytherin colors started fading and by Saturday morning, the silver had become red again. Unfortunately, the green seemed to stick a little longer but Harry would take a festive uniform over a Slytherin one any day, an opinion shared by most of his housemates.

Sunday afternoon found Harry sitting across from Lisa in the library. "What's wrong, Harry?" the girl asked him, breaking the comfortable silence, and he looked up. Lisa had her chin propped on her hand and was staring at him intensely.

He shook his head. "Nothing," he insisted. "I'm fine." Then he ducked his head to focus on the potions essay Lisa helped him with each week, as if the properties of unicorn horn and bat's blood were actually of any interest to him.

She gave an inelegant snort and he looked up, surprised. "I've been watching you Harry. You're different this week. Something's happened."

Harry tried to laugh off her question. "Is it because you're a girl or a Ravenclaw that you have to know everything?" he teased.

Lisa grinned at him. "Both," she admitted proudly. "Now explain!"

Looking into her earnest face, Harry again considered telling her about his and Malfoy's arrangement, and about the crush he fought so hard to hide. But no matter how long and hard he considered it, he knew he wouldn't say anything to her. It wasn't something he was willing to admit aloud just yet. "It's Hermione," he finally answered, and the girl's brows lifted in surprise.

"Granger?" Lisa asked, as if it needed clarification. There was only one Hermione at Hogwarts that would cause Harry any worry. "What about her?"

Harry rolled his eyes and dropped his quill. "She's... plotting," he explained and shook his head.

Lisa smiled. "Against the Slytherins?" she asked and waited for Harry to nod before saying, "Good! Whatever it is, they deserve it." Harry tried not to show any expression but Lisa was watching him too carefully, gauging his reaction to her words. "You feel guilty?" she realized and Harry could hear the surprise in her voice.

"Keep it down, will you," he whispered, leaning closer so their conversation wouldn't be overheard by any of the other students. "I just don't think it very fair that _all_the Slytherins are being targeted. Some of them weren't even involved to begin with, is all," he finished, trying not to let his mind wander to Malfoy again. A difficult task.

"How noble! Harry, you really are a Gryffindor," Lisa gushed, reaching out to pluck at the sleeve nearest to her, where Slytherin green ran parallel to the scarlet, "no matter what your uniform says." Harry rolled his eyes and went back to his essay, thankful she'd accepted such a simple answer.

"We're ready to set it up," Fred informed Hermione quietly the next morning. At his words, Ron, Seamus, and Harry instantly sat forward. If the twins were discussing anything with the girl, it had to be their next attack.

"What are you guys planning?" Harry asked for what seemed the hundredth time that week.

George and Fred both looked at him then down at Hermione. She gave a brief nod that they took as permission. The two knelt on the bench, leaning forward over the table and keeping their voices low. After so much planning, it wouldn't do for the plot to be leaked out now. "We found this old spell in one of the books in the library. It lets the caster stretch a thin layer of any potion over any entrance, sort of like that muggle plastic wrap Dad is so fond of."

Fred nodded. "Then we found a way to modify a vial of diluted truth serum so that we can trigger it's effects whenever we want with just a word. Everything is ready, except we need to actually put it over the Slytherin entrance."

"Won't someone notice it?" Harry interrupted. He knew what plastic wrap looked like, and it wasn't exactly the most invisible in the gleam of candlelight.

Hermione shook her head. "If we've done it correctly, and you know," she pointed to herself with a confident smile, "we have, it should be completely invisible. It'll feel sort of like walking into a spider web when someone passes through." Harry nodded and Ron shivered.

"Other than that, totally undetected," George continued. "Anyway, it's got to be done when no one is down there, like during a meal, but we need to be sure that no one will suddenly show up. We don't want to be caught, you know." George grinned. "That would ruin our record!"

"So you need a diversion, huh?" Seamus asked, face lighting up excitedly. The twins nodded in unison. "Is now a good time?"

"Now's perfect," Hermione confirmed. "Breakfast has only just started so no one's had the chance to leave yet."

Seamus took a swig of his pumpkin juice before standing up and saluting. "Leave it to me, captain! No one can make a scene like I can." Seamus grinned at the boys and waved them off. "Go on, move it. You'll be wanting to head for the door as soon as possible," he advised with a wink.

Fred and George looked at one another, shrugged and stood, walking casually to the entrance of the Great Hall. Harry shifted closer to Ron as Seamus shoved him aside and clambered to stand on top of the table, heedless of the food and goblets he knocked aside. "Excuse me!" he called, his voice barely rising above the noise of so many conversations. "Hey!" he yelled, cupping his hands around his mouth as he called for the attention of the room at large. The noise level fell a bit but he still wasn't satisfied. "I said hey! I've got something to say!"

Gradually the room got quiet and Harry glanced over his shoulder in time to see the twins leaving the room. At the teachers' table, both McGonagall and Snape had stood but Dumbledore sent the two a look that kept them silent. McGonagall frowned, obviously confused, but sank slowly back to her chair. Snape glared at Seamus, looking as if he very much wanted to say something, then he too sat.

"Thank you for your attention," Seamus called out, his voice ringing through the finally silent room. "I wanted to say that this boy, Dean Thomas," Seamus pointed down at him, "is a coward!" Dean stood, his dark skin growing darker with an embarrassed flush. Murmurs flew around the large room and Hermione hid a smile behind her hand. "I have been trying for _weeks_ to catch this guy alone," Seamus continued, sounding annoyed and Dean reached out, grabbing the Irish boy's hand and trying to pull him from the table.

Seamus resisted though. "Don't try to stop me, Dean!" he yelled, and Harry got the distinct impression that the boy was enjoying himself, however irritated he sounded. "It's your own fault! I tried to get you alone. I was only thinking about your feelings but its too late for that now!"

Dean flushed darker and pulled harder on Seamus hand. "Get down, Seamus!" he hissed.

The Irish boy shook his head and pulled his hand away. "You always went to other people! You knew I wanted to talk to you but you ran away. So since I can't say it to you alone, I'll do it in front of everyone!" Seamus stood straighter, turning away from Dean, still hissing to him. "I love Dean Thomas!" he yelled at the top of his lungs.

Harry's jaw dropped. He hadn't expected Seamus to go quite so far for a diversion. But then, he really should have. He knew better than anyone how long Seamus had been waiting, and the Irish boy was a Gryffindor after all. It was the sort of thing a desperate Gryffindor might do. Dean had fallen into a shocked silence, his arm still outstretched and reaching for his friend.

"He's the only fool who still thinks he can beat Ron at wizard's chess and he's always getting Quidditch confused with that football thing of his, and he's no better than a Hufflepuff, but I love Dean Thomas!" Seamus continued, his voice rising over the protests of the Hufflepuff table.

Dean shook himself to his senses, reaching again for Seamus' hand. "Seamus," he called, but the other boy was too caught up in his confession.

"I'll say as many times as I need to, Dean. Until you get it, okay! I love Dean Thomas!" Seamus jerked as Dean pulled harder on his hand, but kept yelling. "I love Dean Thomas! I love-"

Dean had finally managed to pull Seamus down enough to grab the front of the boy's shirt and was currently kissing the boy into silence. Shouts and cries rang out through the room, and it was clear that many students just couldn't process what was happening. "Holy..." Harry heard Ron mutter beside him and nodded slightly, the only agreement he was capable of giving when struck so suddenly speechless.

Even Seamus looked surprised, but he quickly recovered and fell to his knees on the table, uncaring that he landed in a bowl of warm oatmeal as he clasped Dean's hand tighter in his and threw his free arm around the boy's neck. Only Hermione wasn't staring in surprise and Harry turned around to follow her gaze to the doors. Fred and George stood there. They gave her a thumbs-up and then sent up a cheer for Seamus' success that caught on, until most of the room was clapping.

Harry smiled and shook his head. It was so typical for something so totally insane to work perfectly for Seamus. Across the room, Malfoy was clapping, half-smiling at the spectacle Gryffindor offered him, and his eyes locked with Harry's. Harry's grin widened and he looked back over at the couple. Dean pulled away a little, just enough to whisper, "I love Seamus Finnegan," the soft confession nearly drowned out by the resumed chatter of the students.

But Harry heard it and the sweet words, ones Seamus had no doubt been waiting to hear, gave him another unwanted realization.

He'd come to terms with his own crush. He still wouldn't say it aloud but the mere thought of it no longer brought forth shock or panic. There was a sort of happiness that invaded him each time he saw Malfoy, even if from across the room, and each day felt a little brighter.

But, while he might be cautiously comfortable with the fact that he'd developed a crush on his Slytherin rival, somehow it had never occurred to Harry that the same crush that gave him a little happiness each day might lead him to want to do something so utterly terrifying, so completely embarrassing that it was unspeakable, even in the privacy his own thoughts.

Except for the small voice that resided in the darkest corner of his mind, where unwanted thoughts and forgotten memories were swept away to, that sounded vaguely like a Brazilian boa he'd once met. That voice sounded entirely too smug when it sang out from the shadows of his mind, _You'll want to kiss-s-s-s him!_

And then the panic was back.

* * *

Hours felt like years that morning, each class lasting for an eternity. Seamus' incessantly tapping fingers nearly drove Harry insane, until Dean put one hand over the other boy's, a definite tinge of blush on his dark cheeks. Though calmed slightly, it was clear that Seamus, like Ron and Harry, was very impatiently waiting for lunch.

Most Slytherins only carried the bare minimum of supplies to class each morning. This meant that at various points in the day, the students would return to their dorm to restock on parchment or ink. Hermione had always thought it was a ridiculous waste of time and had trained Harry and Ron as early as second year to carry with them everything they would need for the day. They did, if for no other reason than to give her one less thing to nag about. Now, Hermione was glad for that bit of laziness on the part of her enemies. It meant that by lunch almost every Slytherin would have passed through that rigged portrait hole.

Finally, _finally_, it was time for lunch. The twins met Harry and the others outside the wide doors of the Great Hall, almost trembling with anticipation. Harry enthusiastically threw himself into his own excitement. It was much safer than allowing thoughts to form. Much safer.

They didn't start immediately though, much to his and Ron's annoyance. "We've got to let them get comfortable," George explained, skipping the bulk of his meal and heading straight for the dessert plates. Pie was awesome after all.

"They've had all week to get comfortable!" Ron pointed out, growing irritated. He had never been one for waiting.

"This is true," Fred agreed and looked over at Hermione. "Well, General?"

Hermione shrugged. "I don't see why not," she allowed and the twins broke into too similar grins.

Fred stood, gathering the attention of his dorm mates. They'd too been waiting for payback, and had been looking for a signal just like this to tell them the plan was in motion. "Examine if you will, my fellows," he called and motioned to the Slytherin table with a broad wave of his arm. "The Slytherin."

"A creature of deceit, ill-tempered and usually not much to look at," George joined his brother's theatrical presentation and gained the attention of a few Ravenclaws, who nudged and whispered until that table was observing quietly. Lisa grinned at Harry and leaned over to pull on the back of a Hufflepuff's robes. She pointed to the twins and the boy turned back, leaning forward and over until every Hufflepuff had turned to watch as well.

"As you all well know," Fred continued, raising his voice so that it carried over the students to the Slytherin table, the members of that house glaring at them or turning confused glances to one another, "our green-clothed nemeses saw fit to share with us noble Gryffindors the colors of their most hated house. In return, we now grant you all nothing more than our revenge," he ended with a smile and looked at his brother.

Harry glanced at the teachers' table. While Snape observed in red-faced anger, occasionally glaring at Dumbledore, the rest of the faculty seemed unconcerned with what was happening just in front of them. Harry could swear he saw a small smile curve the edge of McGonagall's mouth.

"A question, students. Where do you hit one of these foul creatures so that it causes the most damage?" George asked, pausing for a moment as whispers rippled through his audience.

"An excellent question, sir!" Fred proclaimed. "The answer? Pansy Parkinson!" he called loudly and the girl leaned back on her bench, crossing her arms over her chest and narrowing her eyes dangerously at the two Gryffindors who had dared to call her out. "Toffee!"

A change swept over her then, and even from across the room, Harry could see the shock on the girl's face as she unwillingly stood and shouted, so the entire population of Hogwarts could very clearly hear, "I only pretend I love Draco so no one finds out that I think gingers are hot!" Parkinson's face turned a brilliant shade of red, her eyes comically wide, and clapped her hands over her mouth as she looked around the room. Chuckles, giggles and outright laughter filled the air and she sank slowly in her seat.

"Oh, Terry Boot," George sang and paused to watch the laughter fade from his targets face before calling, "Toffee!"

Like Parkinson, Boot stood and, unable to fight the potion, loudly admitted, "I always hope the Hufflepuffs will win the house cup because I think it'd be funny and I get points taken from us to help them out."

As a mortified Boot ducked back to his seat, Fred stopped laughing long enough to say, "You hit them where it hurts. Make the Slytherins tell the truth."

"A secret truth," George clarified. "Pick a Slytherin, say their name, and then say 'Toffee'." He gave Fred a high-five over Hermione's head, before they both reclaimed their seats and resumed lunch, acting for all the world as if they hadn't just turned Hogwarts into a hell for every student that walked through Slytherin's portrait hole.

"Toffee?" Harry leaned forward to ask. He needed to think about something other than the fact that Malfoy was included in that group, and was a prime target.

Fred shrugged. "We skipped breakfast to do that , you know," he reminded Harry. "I was hungry!"

It didn't take long before overjoyed Gryffindors, curious Ravenclaws and nervous Hufflepuffs started calling out names and the 'magic' word, and Slytherins of all years stood and shouted their secrets. Even Snape trying to intervene couldn't stop the demands. Too many students had a bone to pick with too many Slytherins for lost points or the threat of detention to silence them. And every time 'toffee' was heard over the yells and laughter, Hermione's smile grew wider.

**A/N: That's good for now. And even if it wasn't I have to be up for work in six hours and I need sleep! Thanks for the awesome, amazing, and other words to that effect, response on the last chapter. Namely: Pledodge, SexySpeedDemon, RebeccaMarieCullen, AlineDaryen, Draco and Hermione is like PBJ, Sagitta20, purplerawr, LyricallyInspired, boredom is a crime, Lamp, ForeverRose123 (x2!), doulike14, Lilith91, paintupurple, Lady-Umbreon, XxScarletPhantomxX, Ibbet, xHinata Uzumakix, brionyjae, SunshineAndDaisies, globalfaerie, and HiM'e'TSu for the reviews on the last chapter. Also thanks to Awesomesauce123 for the review on chapter 1. That's 22 reviews last chapter, plus two for other chapters. I've been bragging about it and will continue to do so until reviews come in for the next chap! Then I'll have something new to talk about! Don't let my co-workers get bored. Give me something new! *wink***


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: Once again, I made a major mistake in the last chapter. While part of me wonders how no one saw it, the rest of me is sort glad you all are too caught up by the story to notice. And it no longer matters anyway. I've fixed it! Oh, and I'm going to make a joke in the first paragraph. Let's see if anyone gets it, shall we? That said, read on, readers! Read on.**

The Slytherins were absent from rehearsal that day. Not surprising really. After lunch, even the most sharp-eyed Hufflepuff would be hard pressed to find a single snake lurking about the castle. The Slytherin dorm was the only safe place for them and, thanks to the twins, even that was questionable.

Hermione took quiet pleasure in her victory, a smug smile on her face. Fred and George were much more vocal, accepting the cheers and pats on the back, turning away bribes for their 'secret spell' with good humor. There was no point in risking letting something so potent be turned against them. This was a trick that could wait until _after_ they'd left Hogwarts to be marketed in mass, if they could convince Hermione to let them do it even then.

After the first few humorous confessions, including one from Goyle concerning pink frosted cupcakes, Harry found less and less enjoyment in the prank. Malfoy had been at breakfast, but he was smarter than most of his dorm mates and beat a hasty retreat soon after the twins announced the trigger. He hadn't been to any of the classes the Slytherins shared with the Gryffindors and Harry stopped bothering to check for him as the numbers on the other side of the room quickly dwindled.

Professor Trelawney, with a large part of her cast missing, had no choice but to release the crew early. It was difficult to practice scenes when Tybalt, Nurse, and Friar Lawrence were unavailable. At least Harry had been able to rehearse Romeo's scenes with Juliet with much less embarrassment. Without Malfoy's steady glare, the lines flowed from him with such ease that it surprised even himself, though there was still a vague sense of wrongness about it all.

Harry stuck his head through the door of the next room, watching for a few minutes as Hermione ordered Ron and Dean about, until Seamus pushed past him, offering his assistance to the girl. The exasperation of Hermione's face was almost comical, but she gave the Irish boy a small task, one he could complete while watching Dean and that didn't involve magic. Even Seamus couldn't mess up folding the cloth for costumes.

He shook his head with a grin and let the door close behind him. Harry was holding true to his words to Lisa. There was no way he was volunteering to help out the stage crew, not when he knew the Slytherins would be back and ready for revenge as soon as that spell wore off.

Besides, there was someone he was concerned about, though it'd take more than "toffee" to make Harry admit it, and he meandered through the halls, occasionally checking classrooms for a familiar figure. He was a little surprised to find who he was looking for in the empty room usually reserved for their acting lessons.

Malfoy was seated at the teacher's desk, head bent as he read in the glowing light of a candle, the cloudy sky not letting much light into the room so late in the afternoon. His brows furrowed instantly when he caught sight of Harry standing behind the door, and he leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms over his chest. Not sure what to do, but knowing that just walking away wasn't it, Harry entered quietly, pushing the door closed before taking a few steps into the room.

Like revenge, there are many kinds of silence. The comfortable silence of old friends, the tense silence of someone wronged. The silence that pervaded the room now was something like the kind that Aunt Petunia had treated him with that, when coupled with a narrow glare, meant he'd done something wrong and had better fess up. That sort of silence from Draco Malfoy was much more effective than from his aunt and Harry found himself taking a steadying breath as he approached the table. "I didn't know what they were planning," he explained, softly in the hopes that Malfoy wouldn't be able to hear his nervousness. "At least, not until this morning."

Malfoy just lifted his chin, brow raised doubtfully.

Harry started pacing then, realizing the movement was the perfect showcase of the nervousness he'd been trying to hide, took a seat in his usual desk. As soon as he'd done that, he wished he was pacing again, but settled for tapping his foot.

It was really no surprise that Malfoy was angry. He hadn't endeared himself to anyone outside of his dorm and was a natural choice when revenge became open season. Harry's guilt had nothing to do with that and everything to do with the fact that Malfoy had tried to warn him, in his own subtle way, of the revenge the Slytherins had planned. He'd had the opportunity to repay the favor. Lately, Malfoy had become increasingly easy to talk to alone, with so many of the Slytherins in their year involved in the play, and it wasn't as if Harry hadn't had ample time to warn the other boy not to return to the Slytherin dorms. He had been too focused on that mind-boa's suggestion, and his own panic to even give a thought to the trouble Hermione's plan would cause for Malfoy.

Harry let his head fall to the desk and folded his hands over his neck. "I'm sorry," he mumbled. He could feel Malfoy's gaze on him, but couldn't bring himself to meet it again. "You tried to help me, and the least I could have done was warn you, but I..."

"Cut the act," Malfoy ordered sharply, obviously not wanting to hear any apology Harry tried to offer. "Even you can't be that noble, Potter. I know you want to say it, so just get it over with. I don't need this dog and pony show."

Harry lifted his head, brows furrowed together. There seemed so many things wrong with Malfoy's command, so Harry settled on one. "What act?" he asked.

Malfoy stood from his chair, pushing it back with enough force that it clattered against the wall. Then he stalked around the table, moving quickly to Harry's desk. Harry sat up straighter as the blond approached, trying to figure out from the expression on Malfoy's face just what the other boy was talking about. Malfoy gripped the edges of Harry's desk and leaned down, his glare even more intimidating only inches from Harry's face. "You hate me. You've hated me since day one and I have done everything in my power to encourage that dislike. This is just sort of opportunity someone like you waits for," he sneered, eyes cold. "So say the word, Potter, and quit wasting my time. Why else would you be here?"

Oh. Well, that short rant explained a lot, didn't it? He wasn't a math genius, but even Harry had no problem adding two and two. "You may not believe me," he started slowly, leaning back in his chair to put a few more inches between himself and the intensity of Malfoy's glare, "but I don't want to." Malfoy pushed away from the desk and gave a doubtful snort. "It's true!" Harry insisted. "I never liked the idea of attacking everyone in your dorm, but once you give Fred and George free reign..." he trailed off. No more elaboration was needed when it came to the twins. "If I want to know something about you, I'll just ask. At least then, you have the chance to tell me that it's none of my damn business."

Malfoy met his eyes then, staring into them as if he could see into Harry's soul. And Harry hoped the boy wasn't an accomplished Legilimens on top of everything else, because there was definitely a few thoughts running around in there that he did not want Malfoy to see. After a few tense moments, Malfoy's face softened in confusion. "You're telling the truth?"

Harry shrugged. "We already know I'm horrible at acting and it's hard to keep hating someone who spends a few hours of his free time helping you out, isn't it."

The edge of Malfoy's mouth lifted in a small smile and he leaned against the edge of the teacher's desk. "Not that hard," he teased back, and Harry nodded, looking away. It was too distracting looking at Malfoy when the boy wasn't angry. It made his thoughts wander to very bad places. "How was rehearsal?"

Harry pounced on the question, glad for the change to a more comfortable subject. "Fine, but, you know, it's difficult to practice with missing major roles and all," he answered, grinning at Malfoy. "At least, I had plenty of time to rehearse with Lisa."

He made a face then, and Malfoy chuckled. Harry's train of thought derailed. He'd heard Malfoy laugh before, of course, but it had never struck such a chord in him, sending shivers sown his spine and his blood rushing to his face. He was thankful then for the candle's dimness and the faint glow of the setting sun. It would make it more difficult for Malfoy to notice the effect he was having on Harry.

"It's just...it's weird, you know?" he stammered, trying and failing for a normal tone. Shoving a hand into his hair, he sighed and let his head fall back so he was staring at the ceiling. "I can't even imagine actually having to kiss her...in front of everyone."

Malfoy laughed again, and Harry looked over to glare at him. "You're such a prude," the boy told him, jumping slightly to sit on top of the teacher's desk.

"Well, excuse me," Harry shot back, "but we can't all be the Slytherin sex god, can we?" As soon as the words left his lips, the blood rushed up to Harry's face and he clapped a hand over his mouth, eyes wide.

Malfoy looked surprised at first, his brows almost disappearing into his hair. Then his lips turned up in a grin and he started laughing, a soft chuckle that gradually became louder until the other boy was leaning on one hand to keep from falling off the desk. "That old rumor is still going around?" Malfoy finally managed to ask.

"So it's not true?" Harry asked, then silently cursed his own stupidity. He didn't need to know! That would only make it worse! But it had been the first thought in his head and as distracted as he was, with Malfoy's laugh still echoing in his ears and turning strange knots in his stomach, it had been the only thing he could think of.

If that wasn't bad enough, the smile that came over Malfoy's face when he sat back up, looking straight at Harry, was positively wicked. "Oh, it's true," he confessed, voice low, and Harry didn't doubt it at all. "I am very, _very_ good. But I'm also discrete," he finished, leaning back on his hands as his smile became the normal sort, the one that didn't do crazy things to Harry's insides, "Pansy just put that rumor out to see how far it would go. She gets bored, you know." Malfoy rolled his eyes, but Harry could tell he was fond of the girl. It sent a twinge through his heart that he instantly recognized as jealousy, but he smiled anyway. It had only been that morning that Pansy had confessed, under truth serum and to the whole school, that she was pretending to love Malfoy. And if she was only pretending, then it meant it wasn't real, so he didn't have anything to be jealous of. He resisted the urge to let his head drop to the desk. Because he _was_ jealous and because he was even thinking about it!

"Want to practice?" Malfoy's voice broke into his thoughts and Harry looked up at the boy. He was still on the teacher's desk, leaning back on his hands with an air of casualness that was still somehow refined, a kind of aura Harry knew he could never even hope to achieve but admired on someone like Malfoy. And he was waiting patiently for Harry's answer.

"Er, practice what?" Harry finally managed, trying to remember the last thing they'd been talking about.

"Kissing, Potter," Malfoy sounded exasperated, as if he couldn't believe what a dunce he was dealing with. "Do you want to practice kissing?"

Time froze. The candle didn't flicker, Malfoy didn't move, Harry couldn't even blink. Then time kicked back up, and when his thoughts finally started moving again, the first one Harry could actually understand was something like _Hell's frozen over_. But he still managed to say, "W-what?" without revealing too much of the turmoil a simple question set him into.

"You're worried about kissing Lisa in the play because of her boyfriend, right?" Malfoy asked, and stood from the desk. He turned and started moving papers, his book, and the candle, setting the items in a neat stack on a small shelf behind the desk. Then he looked back at Harry, who finally nodded in answer to his question. "Well, come here," the blond ordered, patting a hand on the desk. "I'll show you how to pretend to kiss someone."

"Um, you don't have to," Harry protested. "I mean, it'll be fine..."

"Potter," Malfoy interrupted, eyes narrowed and he pat the desk again. "We both know you'll be too embarrassed to ask anyone else. Besides, this is exactly what you give me chocolate for, isn't it? To teach you how to act." He shrugged. "Just think of it as part of your lessons."

It was as good a reason as any not to get any closer to Malfoy, so Harry latched on, smiling as normally as he could. He could tell that it came out more of a grimace, which could be expected under such circumstances. "I didn't bring any chocolates today."

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "You're also not walking away with any of my secrets. I'll consider this a fair non-trade. Now quit whining and get over here!"

He was starting to sound really annoyed so, against his better judgment, Harry stood and moved to the teacher's desk standing with the wide top between them. "Well?" he asked, crossing his arms protectively over his chest.

"Lie down," Malfoy ordered, leaning back to give Harry room. It was on the tip of his tongue to refuse. He really, really didn't need this! But Harry complied, climbing atop the desk and laying down on his back, hands clenched tightly together on his belly. Malfoy probably wouldn't drop it, now that the subject had been brought up, and it really would be useful to know how not to have to kiss Lisa... "Good, now close your eyes."

Harry glared up at Malfoy, the odd angle making him even more nervous. "Why do I have to close my eyes? How am I supposed to learn what you're doing if I can't see it?" he argued.

Malfoy let out a breath of frustration, and Harry got the feeling that he was reminding himself that he was dealing with an idiot. "Because you're supposed to be Juliet, and this is the scene where Juliet is supposed to be playing dead. And playing dead means..." the boy trailed off, waving a hand at Harry.

"Closing my eyes," Harry finished. He could see the logic in it, but even so, closing his eyes while Malfoy pretended to kiss him was too strange. Then again, did he really want to be watching when Malfoy's face came closer? That thought alone, even more than the other boy's exasperation, made Harry snap his eyes closed.

Malfoy chuckle sounded above his head. "Relax, Potter. Would Juliet's face be all scrunched up like that?" So Harry forced himself to relax, even as he heard the wooden desk creak as Malfoy leaned his hand next to him and the warmth of another body moved closer. "There are a few ways to do this," Malfoy told him in a quiet voice. "Mostly, people just kiss the cheek or the chin. Close enough to the mouth that, from far away, it could look convincing. But you don't want to kiss at all, right?"

Harry nodded slightly, fighting the panic that was rising as Malfoy drew closer. "So for you, a little set up is needed. Brush your hand along the side of her face," he instructed and Harry's breath caught in his throat as Malfoy's fingers traced gently over his brow and down his cheek. "Then, spread your hand over her cheek, like she's the most precious thing to you," Malfoy's voice dropped lower as he moved closer, and Harry could hardly hear the soft words over the rapid beating of his own heart.

"This is the most important part, Potter, so you'd better be listening." Harry nodded only slightly. "As you lean down to kiss her," and Malfoy was leaning. He couldn't see it, but Harry could tell by the warm breath that fluttered against his skin. "Make sure you slide your thumb over her lips, so you kiss it instead of her." Harry felt the soft pressure of Malfoy's thumb over his lips, before the boy was there, his breath warm against Harry's cheek. And Harry would have give all the galleons in his vault for that thumb to slip and for that kiss to be more than just acting.

That realization, even more than the knowledge that Malfoy was only a thumb's width from kissing him, frightened Harry and his heart stopped for a moment. He reached up and pushed the other boy away, sitting up on the desk and making a point not to look at Malfoy. What would the Slytherin see in his eyes if they looked at him just then? "I think I've got it now, Malfoy," he said, going for a joking tone that wasn't quite as cheerful as he'd like. Even he could hear the hint of panic in it.

But Malfoy didn't seem to mind. He only shrugged and moved to grab his book and the candle, setting them back on the teacher's desk. "It's just as well. You'll need to hurry if you want to make it down to dinner. If Harry Potter doesn't show for dinner, especially with that prank your friends pulled, there might be pandemonium. That would get in the way of my studying, and we just can't have that."

It was a joke, but the thought of his dorm-mates' reaction if he did go missing after the whole "toffee" nonsense made Harry laugh and he moved from the table, heading to the door. "You're not coming?" he asked, looking back over his shoulder to see Malfoy flipping the book open.

The Slytherin shook his head. "You may be above using this prank, but any Slytherin worth the title wouldn't hesitate to take advantage of it," Malfoy said, and Harry knew that no matter how light a tone he used, it was nothing less than the truth. "My dorm is not the best place for someone with a few secrets he'd like to stay that way."

Harry nodded. "I'm sorry," he tried again but Malfoy only waved a careless hand at him, not bothering to look up. So Harry left the room and headed to the Great Hall. It wasn't food that was on his mind though. Malfoy's hand against his face had been warm, warmer than he would've expected from someone who'd always appeared so cold and stand-offish. And there was a scent lingering in his nose, vanilla and old books, and something else, something he didn't have a name for but would now always associate with Malfoy.

Sitting next to Ron and Hermione, every so often glancing at the empty Slytherin table, laughing with them at the red-faced look of anger that Snape couldn't seem to get rid of, and acting as if everything were completely normal, was the hardest thing he could remember doing. Something in him had changed. He could tell that much.

**A/N: I'd better end it there. I really should get some sleep! But I also want to say, I seriously (ha) considered ending this chapter at the "want to practice" part, but I decided that would be too cruel. You guys have been good to me! You gave me 28 reviews on the last chapter, which is soooooooo awesome. So I didn't do it. Aren't I the nicest! Anywho~ Thanks to RebeccaMarieCullen, Ibbet, HeartofaGoddess2009, LyricallyInspired, GryffindorkInSlytherinColors, Dezra, AlineDaryen, sona92, angelkitten365, ForeverRose123, purplerawr, itachifangirl2424, Draco and Hermione is like PBJ, bgreenwivy, SexySpeedDemon, Lady-Umbreon, paintupurple, nowle, SunshineAndDaisies, XxScarletPhantomxX, xHinata Uzumakix, ... (x2), PricessPurity, TwoClovedHooves, HiM'e'iTSu (got it right, right?), Phoebe-128, YeahYouWannaKnowMyName, and trillium248 for the reviews! That's a lot of new people this time! Yay! Internet kisses to you all!**


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: Hello again! I have a really good reason for not updating in so long, but it really annoys me to think about it, so I won't be sharing. Suffice it to say, the whole issue gave me the worst case of writer's block and I've only just got my ability back. Hope it's still good! And thanks for the patience!**

Harry skipped dinner Tuesday night. He spent the hour and a half that his dorm mates were downstairs joking and laughing over the Slytherin dilemma, sitting silently on the edge of his bed, turning the box of chocolates over in his hands and turning his thoughts around in his head.

It didn't make sense, even to himself. He'd spent all morning hoping to see Malfoy, but Hermione's revenge hadn't worn off yet and the Slytherins were still vulnerable. Even so, he'd told himself that he could see the other boy at their practice later tonight, and he'd waited impatiently for the time to come, annoying his friends with the incessant tapping of his fingers and feet. Right now, Harry should be down in that room, not looking at the script he brought with him out of habit more than anything else and still reciting his lines with only the smallest flaws.

Instead, he was here, too nervous to do more than shuffle his feet and twist his hands. Harry tossed the box aside and fell back on the bed, throwing his hands over his eyes. Most people thought he acted without thinking. Harry wished that were the case. If he hadn't bothered to think, he'd already be down there. But he had and now those thoughts, so bothersome, so terrifying, wouldn't go away!

Being near Malfoy made him happy, so why did he have to question it?

Because it was Malfoy. Because it was the one boy in all of Hogwarts who had devoted so much of his time in the last few years to making him and his friends, and generally anyone and everyone else, completely miserable. But why couldn't Harry be as selfish as others could be and grab at what happiness he could? It wasn't fair that Ron and Hermione and everyone else at Hogwarts could so freely chase after what they wanted and he couldn't. What was stopping him?

Besides the disapproval of his friends and housemates, the answer was still obvious. Malfoy was a boy. Malfoy was a Slytherin. Maybe boys could get together, it had worked so well for Seamus and Dean, but Gryffindors and Slytherins? It was the very definition of opposites. Even if opposites did sometimes attract, and even supposing Malfoy could be attracted to boys, he was a pureblood. People like Harry, and just about everyone Harry associated with, were nothing more than trash to him.

Harry pushed himself up from the bed, glaring at his reflection in the darkened window. His hair was sticking up at all angles, as usual, and he was starting to break out. Sighing, he tried to flatten his hair, with little success. He knew he wasn't much to look at, so those bumps in the road might as well be mountains. Then again, he'd though that lessons with Malfoy would involve much more humiliation than they had. He'd thought that was a sure thing. Did that mean he could be wrong about anything that would keep Malfoy from returning his feelings?

He shook his head, looking over at the box. None of it would matter anyway. Draco Malfoy wasn't going to know about his feelings. Harry Potter having a crush on him would only be a burden or another thing to ridicule. So, he'd keep it to himself, he wouldn't ask for more and he certainly wouldn't think about kissing the boy. Logical. Painful, but logical. Didn't mean he couldn't keep their lessons though, for as long as he had the arrangement.

Standing quickly, Harry pushed his hair to the side, covering those faint pink spots, then grabbed the box of chocolates and left the room. He barely nodded at the seventh year couple who climbed through the portrait hole as he was leaving. If he stopped for even a moment, he'd start to think again. Then, there was no way he'd make it to Malfoy.

Even so, when he finally stood outside the door, heart beating loudly for reasons that had nothing to do with the quick walk, he paused with his fingers on the handle. Harry bit his lip, a moment of doubt flicking through his mind. It would be simple, wouldn't it. He just wouldn't fall any deeper in love with the other boy. Harry nodded a bit to himself and pushed the door open.

Malfoy was sitting on the desk, legs hanging over the side and a thin book abandoned near his hand as he stared out the window. "You can't actually see anything out there, can you, Malfoy," Harry asked, letting the door close behind him.

"Nothing but the candle flame," Malfoy answered and glanced in his direction with a smile. It was just a slight lift at the corner of his lips and, chances were, it was because he saw the box of chocolates in Harry's hand, but it still made him feel special in a small way that he would never, ever tell anyone about. "You're a bit late. Not that I'm surprised," Malfoy commented as he jumped from the table. "Any particular reason this time?"

Harry shrugged and set the box on the edge of the teacher's desk, then moved to his usual spot. "Moving stairs," he lied and didn't really think that Malfoy believed him. He was the guy that taught him how to act, after all. But the blond just nodded, and Harry was glad he didn't push the issue.

* * *

By Thursday afternoon, the Slytherins had returned to their routines, unfortunately for many of the smaller Gryffindors. Those like the Creevey brothers had learned to travel in packs after the first two or three Slytherin sneak attacks. "There's certainly no great mastermind behind all this," Hermione had remarked with a sigh during lunch and passed another towel to a scrawny second year. He nodded thankfully and walked away, freeing his chair for another student. The Gryffindors had skipped that meal as a group to attend to the Slytherins' victims, not that Fred and George hadn't already made several trips down to the kitchens.

"Don't speak so quickly, darling," Lavender cooed as she flung a towel around the small boy's neck and picked up her scissors. "I've always believed this house could use a fashion makeover. It takes a brilliant Slytherin to give us the perfect reason." She winked at Hermione and snipped the gum from the boy's hair before shooing him over to Ginny and Romilda, who quickly doused the boy with soapy self-scrubbing water before arguing over how best to style the his hair. Hermione rolled her eyes and passed the girl another towel.

"Meanwhile, what sort of wizard resorts to this kind of attack?" Fred laughed, and flipped the long pigtail of a third year girl. She burst into loud broken sobs, the move a clear reminder of the singed other pigtail, hanging in pungent strands an inch above her shaking shoulder. Hermione batted Fred away and leaned down, muttering soothing words to the girl that did little to ease her tears.

"But you have to admire the way they managed to put those sticking charms on the gumballs," Ron added, ruffling his own newly shortened hair with a frown. "I didn't know you could do that with food." Harry didn't know how Ron had managed to find himself alone on the wrong end of a spelled gum wad, but he didn't seem all that dissatisfied with his new look.

Hermione shook her head. "You aren't supposed to, but then, you're aren't supposed to make potions into cobwebs either." She patted the girl's shoulder for a bit longer and led her to the chair in front of Ginny.

"No worries! I'll make you lovely, okay," Ginny told the girl reassuringly and straightened as she shook her head. "It's the greatest sin, you know, messing with a girl's hair." Harry tuned out the conversation then, scooting further into his chair and flipping another page in his already memorized script as he waited for lunch to end.

The rest of the afternoon hadn't passed any easier, and as Harry made his way downstairs for rehearsal, more than one teary-eyed Gryffindor ran up the steps in a flurry of robes. He wasn't too terribly worried though. Even if Hermione had taken Ron and Dean off to build more props, Ginny and the other girls were upstairs, soap and scissors at the ready.

"Tonight, we'll be practicing on stage," Binns informed the group as soon as rehearsal began and waved Lisa, Hannah, and Parkinson to the dais with his quill. "Since this is Friday practice, our minor roles aren't with us, so we'll just skip on ahead to Act First, Scene Third." The three girls nodded and immediately flipped open their scripts. Trelawney and Binns settled themselves into their seats, muttering quietly and scribbling on parchment as the girls acted out the scene.

Harry crossed his arms and leaned against the table to watch. He heard movement next to him and glanced over, fighting to hide his surprise, and delight, when he saw Malfoy standing next to him. He turned forward, trying to concentrate on the scene playing out before him. "She's not bad, is she?" he commented softly.

It took a moment to work through his surprise. Malfoy was speaking to him the same way he would as if they'd been in their tutoring room, and in front of most of the cast. "Which one?" he finally managed to ask.

Malfoy gave him a small smile and shrugged. "Whichever. They could all be worse."

Harry hid his laugh with a fake cough. "How nice of you to say so," he teased, keeping his voice a whisper. If he disturbed the scene, someone might glance back at him and ruin these few moments when Malfoy wasn't acting completely hateful.

"My mistake. I would never say anything that could be construed as kind," Malfoy whispered back. "Line, please." He waved a hand to an imaginary director, and leaned against the table a few inches from Harry.

Harry turned back to the scene, grinning. He wasn't sure what to say and certainly didn't want Malfoy moving away, not when he could feel the warmth of the other boy's body so near his own. When Trelawney called him for the next scene, he could have yelled his annoyance. Malfoy hadn't so much as looked at him since Tuesday, and now she was interrupting a perfectly peaceful, and rare, conversation. But Seamus was waving to him from the dais, so Harry pasted a calm expression on his face. He knew this part well enough and Romeo was not supposed to be angry.

It was Seamus' time to shine and the scene moved quickly with such an excitable boy in control. Harry couldn't help his grin, even on stage. He hadn't messed up once and figured it was some sort of record. Lisa gave him a thumbs up from behind Trelawney and he smiled at her. He caught sight of Malfoy standing just behind the Ravenclaw, a smug expression on his face. And he deserved the right. Harry could only act because of him.

Then Malfoy did something Harry hadn't expected, at least not outside the Arithmancy room. He smiled, a brief flash of teeth that no one else could see. Harry's breath caught in his throat and he just barely managed to choke out his last few lines, tripping as he left the stage. "Alright there, mate?" Seamus asked, more out of habit than concern. Anyone who roomed with Neville had long since become accustomed to random moments of clumsiness. Harry nodded his reply, waving away a few other inquiries and slinked to the back of the group, partly to hide his blush, partly to nurse his bruised knee in semi-privacy.

That had been smooth. Trelawney stood and issued her critique to Justin, his Benvolio not quite to the bug-eyed professor's standards. And behind her, Harry could see Malfoy not even trying to hide his amusement, leaning on Parkinson's shoulder as the two laughed, occasionally glancing his way.

It was okay, Harry told himself as his blush grew brighter. Most people thought red was a very good color on him. Complimented his skin tone or some such rubbish... He groaned softly and rubbed a hand over his eyes. When he couldn't even walk straight, just because Malfoy smiled at him, it was time for Harry to realize that the world was against him. He was sure of it.

**A/N: I really wanted to post something before I went to bed, though I'm not sure I'm completely satisfied. Since it's now early morning (and I'm talking daylight here!), you all should review this chapter as a reward to me! Just a suggestion. Good night...morning...whatever! Thanks to globalfaerie, SunshineAndDaisies, AlineDaryen, Draco and Hermione is like PBJ, Stinuli, SexySpeedDemon, XxScarletPhantomxX, Lamp, Krystaluvstwilight, LyricallyInspired, plasticblue, draco-luvr1018, soupcan, boredom is a crime, Lady-Umbreon, DarkWiccanPrincess, RebeccaMarieCullen, supercoolfreak, HiM'e'iTSu, SushiBar, Sophia Anna-Mae, Ibbet, purplerawr, Closet Chocoholic, FoeverRose123, trillium248, OriginalDemon, Rikkuri, YYWKMN (thanks for the abbreviation!), Lady of the frozen black flame, paintupurple, and DMbranolaHP. That's 32! How awesome is that! Yay!**


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: Hello! I totally intended to have this chapter up by Christmas, as a present to you lovely readers, but....I got lazy, I guess. Sorry! Accept my apologies, because I can't have been the only one caught by that post-holidays stupor, and read on!**

"How come I never see you at dinner, Harry?" Seamus asked a few nights later, the casual question making Harry choked on the bite of chicken he'd just convinced his full stomach that he did actually need. Seamus waited patiently through Harry's spasmodic coughing, clearly determined not to be distracted from his question.

Harry grabbed his goblet, gulping down the cool liquid within as he hastily swiped at his watering eyes. "What do you mean?" he asked replied when the ability to talk normally finally returned to him. "I'm eating dinner now, aren't I?" He glanced up briefly, relieved to see Ron and Hermione involved in yet another of their many arguments. If they were so worried about what color the Capulets' tights should be, they wouldn't be too concerned with what Seamus might say.

Seamus rolled his eyes, dropping his fork and folding his hands beneath his chin. "Don't think I haven't noticed, Mr. Potter," he teased and leaned forward, cupping his hand around his mouth as if about to reveal some grand secret. "Every Tuesday night, you disappear."

Fortunately, Harry had given up on eating anything more, else he would have choked again at that observation, and the one to follow when Seamus, leaning back on his hands and grinning ear to ear, said, "Let's not forget how you ditch me at every opportunity. Wanting to be alone with someone, Harry?" he sang, his voice getting a little louder.

Harry's eyes widened and he waved a hand for Seamus to lower his voice. His Irish friend was much more observant than Harry had given him credit for. And much more persistent. Seamus was still talking, hadn't lowered his voice at all, and was beginning to get some attention from a few others. Harry glanced up to see Lavender Brown looking towards them, brows raised with interest, and he cursed under his breath. Then, grabbing Seamus by the arm, he pulled the other boy up and dragged him to the door, not even bothering to excuse himself.

Only when their dorm room's door had closed firmly behind them did Harry release his friend and Seamus sat on the end of Dean's bed, turning his head side to side as he watched Harry pace furiously across the room. "It's wrong, it's so wrong," Harry muttered under his breath. A part of him was screaming in protest. _You've gone so long and you're doing just fine_, it insisted. _Why bring someone else in? It will only make you more confused_. Another, more logical part Harry was sure, pushed him to talk, ask for the advice he so rarely wanted. It was only Seamus, after all.

"What's so wrong?" Seamus' voice broke into his thoughts and Harry looked at him. It was only Seamus. Seamus could help, possibly. In any case, he couldn't make things worse. Not if he didn't know who Harry was taking about.

"I like someone," he blurted. "But we're totally and completely wrong for each other. Like, there's just no getting around it. Seamus, you have to help me. Tell me what to do." Harry nodded, brightening, and moved to sit on the edge of his bed, just across from Dean's. "Tell me what to do," he repeated, flapping his hands nervously.

Seamus was quiet for a moment, brows furrowed in thought. Then he leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. "I don't understand," the Irish boy started slowly, "Why are you and Lisa so wrong for each other?"

Harry's face fell. He'd completely forgotten that everyone thought he and the Ravenclaw were together. So, unless Harry actually told him about Malfoy, of course Seamus wouldn't be any help. Harry sighed, then jumped when the door opened and Dean stuck his head into the room. "Not interrupting, am I?" he asked, his gaze flicking between the two.

Seamus opened his mouth to speak but Harry shook his head and stood. "We were only talking," he explained tersely and excused himself from the room. He could hear Dean asking about him as the door closed, but Harry didn't care. He'd been waiting so long, had been so sure that if he only talked to someone, it would somehow make the whole situation better. While he may not have given Harry the advice he wanted, Seamus had made one thing clear.

To everyone else in all of Hogwarts, there was no situation. To everyone else, his life was, for what his friends might claim to be the first time, going right. For once, Harry had no need to ask for advice, no problem for which he needed assistance. So of course, none of his friends could imagine that their suddenly busy schedules would, in any way, be inconvenient for him. And if he bothered to point out that it was, chances were Hermione would insist he fill his time as she and the others had, building and rebuilding that cursed set. Thank you Slytherin, he thought bitterly.

In any case, he would rather spend his time as he had of late, surrounded by the many dusty books of the library. There were others there, Ravenclaws mostly, holding whispered arguments about the pronunciation of some obscure spell or other, but it was as close to solitude as he could get, considering his housemates. Claiming an empty table next to a window, Harry rested his chin on his crossed arms as he stared, almost hypnotized, at the reflection of the candle's flame in the dark glass. He wasn't sure when he dozed off, but he woke with a jolt, the distinct impression that he was being watched rising to the front of his mind.

Harry blinked the sleep from his eyes and sat up, stretching his arms above his head. He almost fell out of his chair when he noticed the boy sitting across from him, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "Holy crap, Malfoy," Harry cried, struggling to keep his voice low despite the rapid beating in his chest. "Don't just sneak up on a guy like that! I thought my heart was going to pop."

Malfoy chuckled low, and Harry was glad he was still so worked up over the shock of finding the boy across from him, otherwise he was sure the Slytherin would see the effect of that husky laugh on his face. "Potter, did you know you drool when you sleep?" he asked, and tapped a finger against his chin.

Harry blushed furiously, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth quickly. "What are you doing here anyway?" he whispered, casting a glance down the aisle of books. At least no one else was there to witness that bit of embarrassment.

Malfoy shrugged. "I was bored. Want to go flying, Potter?" he asked, leaning forward on his arms. Harry glanced out the window. It was past dinner and, while he wasn't sure of the time, he was certain that curfew would begin soon. As if reading his thoughts, Malfoy taunted, "Unless you're scared of the dark, of course."

It was all the challenge Harry needed. "You wish," he replied, falling back on his familiar answer with a smile. Malfoy grinned at him and pushed away from the table, motioning for Harry to follow. Madame Pince hid her surprise well, hardly blinking when she saw Hogwarts' greatest rivals passing so peaceably through the library doors. In the hall, Harry turned to head to his dorms and his broom, but Malfoy grabbed his arm, pulling Harry back enough that the brunet nearly tripped. "Where are you going?"

"To my room?" Harry replied, only a bit distracted by the warm hand that was closed around his forearm. When had Malfoy's hands gotten so big? He could clearly remember the delicate fingers that had reached out for his first year. Freaking puberty. How unfair to favor one boy so, and leave Harry shorter even than most fourth years.

"And risk being caught?" Malfoy snorted. "That wouldn't be any fun. There are school brooms, Potter. We can use those with much less trouble than you trekking all the way back to that horrid dorm of yours." He pulled Harry along behind him, releasing his arm only as they approached the lone window in a deserted corridor. Malfoy grunted softly as he pushed open the glass, the hinges stiff and creaky with disuse. "Come along, Potter," he whispered, beckoning for Harry to follow.

When he was outside, damp grass brushing against the sides of his shoes as he jogged a few paces behind the other boy, Harry had a few moments for thought to intercede on his impulse. He was sure it was his Gryffindor mind that snarled at his complacence, allowing a Slytherin of all people to so easily control him, following where the boy beckoned. What happened to all that pride, it snarled at him. It was the boa that told that part to _ssshut up_, insisting that things were going along famously, and for heaven's sake, why hadn't he just showed Malfoy a simpler exit than a bloody window? He'd memorized enough of Hogwarts' secrets by now to know that the tunnel leading straight to the Quidditch pitch had only been steps away. Harry's thoughts came to a screeching halt when he ran straight into Malfoy's back, only just managing to catch himself from falling.

"Watch where you're going," Malfoy ordered, straightening for a moment to glare at him. Harry blushed, thankful for the darkness of night and the half phase moon that offered only enough light to make out the other boy's figure as he bent over the old lock on the Quidditch supplies shack. A few whispered spells and Malfoy pulled the door open, disappearing for a moment. "Take these," he called softly and Harry just barely managed to catch the two brooms Malfoy tossed to him.

He followed the other boy to the pitch. "You're not going to help?" he asked, cursing softly as he fumbled one of the brooms and knelt to pick it back up.

Malfoy laughed at him. "Help? I did the hard part," he replied, but it wasn't the hard tone he might have normally used. Harry got the feeling that Malfoy was only toying with him and looked up, trying to examine the boy's face. The faint light hid whatever it was that was in Malfoy's eyes and Harry shrugged to himself. Chances were, he wouldn't have been able to read them anyway. "The very least you could do is carry the brooms."

Harry snorted, and shifted the brooms so he was carrying one in each hand. Clunky and old fashioned as the school's brooms were, at least they were short. It made them easier to carry when they weren't dragging along behind him. As soon as he reached the pitch, it was a different tale altogether. He tossed one broom aside and mounted the other, immediately kicking off into the darkness.

There was a freedom, shooting through the sky, the air so crisp and clear that the stars seemed only just beyond the reach of his hand, like the snitch he tried so hard to capture every game. No pressure to do well, urged on by the roar of cheering and jeering students. No restriction of watchful teachers, ready to halt the action at any moment. Bludgers weren't flying about his head, he didn't have to watch for his teammates or for rivals. Malfoy whizzed past him then, executing a smooth turn and grinning back at Harry challengingly and Harry let out a whoop as he followed, urging the old broom to it's highest speed.

Freedom. Absolute freedom.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd had so much fun simply flying. He'd raced Malfoy around the pitch several times, keeping pace when the boy dove and rose and spun, his laughter and Malfoy's rising together in the cool air.

Then his hand slipped, and Harry fell forward with a curse. His one handed grip on the broom, worn smooth with many years of use, didn't last long and he shouted out when he fell. The air flew past his ears too quickly, the ground rising toward him at a dizzying speed and he closed his eyes, bracing himself for the impact.

He wasn't ready for the tackle that came from the side, long arms closing around him tightly as he fell, rolling, to the grass. Malfoy's voice cursed harshly in his ear when they hit the ground with a thud, and Harry had to bite back his own cry of pain at the rock that collided sharply with his elbow.

When they stopped rolling, Harry lay on Malfoy's chest for a moment, trying desperately to catch his breath, the harsh pants he managed just barely enough to fill his lungs. "Moron," Malfoy muttered in his ear and dropped his hands from Harry's sides.

Harry put a hand on the grass on either side of the other boy, pushing himself up. Malfoy's broom had landed yards away, a testament either to how far they'd rolled or to the force with which Malfoy had shoved off. His own broom, the stupid thing, still floated above the pitch and Harry gulped at the height. He looked back down at Malfoy. The boy hadn't shoved him off. That alone was surprising. He'd thrown one arm over his eyes and was taking deep, steadying breaths.

Harry elbows buckled and he fell back to Malfoy's chest at the enormity of the situation. Draco Malfoy had saved him? It had been risky, dangerous even, and completely unselfish. Decidedly un-Slytherin. He examined the part of Malfoy's face that he could see, memories of that "kissing" lesson rising unbidden to his mind. Harry could chalk it up to adrenalin, that sudden desire, and the part of him that wanted to ignore it, to stay firm to his decision not to fall any further, didn't stand a chance against the part that encouraged it, insisting that Malfoy...that Draco would be there to catch him again. It was entirely too tempting, and Harry dropped his head the few inches that separated them, pressing his lips softly against the other boy's mouth.

His heart beat faster in his chest, perhaps making up for time's sudden slowness. Malfoy's lips were a strange texture, soft and firm all at once. As the thought crossed his mind, it hit him then, just exactly what he was doing, and he pulled away, turning panicked eyes to Malfoy's face. The other boy had moved his arm up, wrist resting on his forehead, to give him a clear look at Harry, hovering just above him, and even in the dim light of the half-moon, Harry could see the confused knit of his pale brows.

He cursed, his face flaming red. What a fool! Of course Malfoy would notice Harry kissing him! Anyone would! He scrambled up, trying to be careful, even in his haste, not to give the boy any further injuries than the ones he'd gotten snatching Harry straight from his plummet. The words of an apology worked at his mouth, but he couldn't get them out, so he spun around, ready to bolt back to the school. "Potter," Malfoy called and Harry paused long enough to look back. The Slytherin was sitting now, pushing his wind-mussed hair back from his face. "I wouldn't eat in the Great Hall tomorrow," he suggested and Harry frowned a little, watching the boy stand and brush flecks of grass from his clothes.

His worst enemy kisses him and that was the only thing Malfoy could think of to say? To not eat in the Great Hall? Harry was aware that this was a warning, so he nodded his thanks and turned again to leave, but Malfoy called him again. "That was... an accident, right, Potter?" he asked, almost hesitantly. Harry wasn't sure what he could say to make Malfoy believe him, wasn't sure there was anything. So he didn't answer, just gave a nod he wasn't entirely certain Malfoy could see and bolted towards the school.

His borrowed broom still hung in the air over the Quidditch pitch, and Seamus gave him a suspicious look when he sneaked into the room an hour past curfew with red cheeks and hair messier than usual, but Harry couldn't find it in him to care. He stripped to his boxers, leaving the rest of his clothes in an untidy pile at the foot of his bed, and slipped beneath the covers, pulling them up over his head. It was only as an afterthought that he shared Malfoy's warning with Ron who, after a few questions Harry refused to answer, left the dorm, presumably to share this bit of information with "the General."

His duty finished, Harry could get back to berating himself with a clear conscience. Stupid, stupid, stupid! The boa's voice, from that dark corner of his mind, whispered, almost scolding, _not ssstupid_. What do you know? Harry thought furiously, and was pleased when the traitorous voice remained silent.

**A/N: Just as an aside, let me say this: I hate winter! Stupid pipes freeze over every night, no matter what we do to prepare them, so anyone in internet land with nice warm weather, be a dear and send it my way! Anywho, thanks are in order, I believe. So thanks to purplerawr, TheSlashBunny (x2), HeartofaGoddess2009, ForeverRose123, LyricallyInspired, SexySpeedDemon, DMbranolaHP, XxScarletPhantomxX, DarkWiccanPrincess, Lady-Umbreon, Draco and Hermione is like PBJ, ihateee, Torchwoodfan13, AlineDaryen, brionyjae (x2), SunshineAndDaisies, trillium248, AnimeFreak2468, Horseygirl7, Ibbet, globalfaerie, HiM'e'iTSu, nowle, 3466-0402, L.C. Night, paintupurple, and amber v. You guys are the greatest! I don't remember the last time so many people called me amazing! Super ego-boost! Yay! **


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: I am so sorry for the wait! Really I am, but I guess since I seem to say that at the beginning of each chapter, I won't blame you if you don't believe me. Let's just get to the story then, shall we?**

Harry dressed slowly the next morning, taking his time even on brushing his hair. "Trying to impress someone, mate?" Ron asked him cheerfully, simply running his fingers through his short hair. Harry grabbed his toothbrush and paste and stated scrubbing fiercely at his teeth, using the daily task as an excuse not to answer. When he'd finally finished his morning routine, a good half hour later than usual, Harry started down the steps, for once thankful for the Slytherins' antics. It meant that he didn't have to face Malfoy just yet.

The twins, with the help of certain house elves, had brought breakfast up to the common room straight from the kitchen. It was "completely un-tampered with", they'd assured their dorm mates. But they were curious, even about the pranks of others, and had volunteered to eat whatever breakfast the Slytherins had decided to serve them, a few of the more adventurous students tagging along.

The jovial air that generally was present in the common room was heightened by the presence of food. Harry listened with half an ear as Ron gave a crumb-spewing lecture about the injustice of intentionally destroying a good meal just for a prank, ever so conveniently forgetting that his brothers had done the exact same thing, and with his blessing, not so long ago. Judging from the loud choruses of agreement that echoed around the gaily colored room, it was clear that the other Gryffindors didn't consider turnabout to be fair play either.

In any case, Harry just waited impatiently and curiously for the twins and their small "unit" to return. More than once, someone, usually Hermione, questioned him about where he'd gotten the tip, but Harry would shake his head and mutter something about the library. Eventually, and after many suspicious looks, Hermione concluded that Harry had overheard the plan while studying, and, though obviously not completely satisfied, she dropped the subject for another of her favorites- scolding Ron for his poor manners.

The noise level began to die down slowly, as the students realized just how soon classes would be starting. It was Lavender, that inveterate gossip, who finally asked the question that had risen to the forefront of each Gryffindor's mind. "What's taking them so long?" Hermione looked worried and even Ron, cheeks still puffy with several slices of un-chewed toast, looked a little concerned.

The portrait hole opened then and the students turned as one to look. Seamus, looking positively green, stumbled in, leaning heavily on the wall. Hermione pushed her way through the crowd to him and asked him a few whispered questions. Then she cursed, which surprised the students in hearing range into soft chattering, and stood straight, looking across the room until she spotted Lee Jordon. Gryffindors stepped out of her way as she moved to him and gave him a few soft commands. He nodded and charged up the stairs to the boys' dorm as Hermione ordered a few more students about.

"What's going on?" Harry asked, watching as a group of boys hustled out the portrait hole. Hermione started to answer but was interrupted when Seamus leaned over and released his breakfast over the stone floor, shuddering violently. Sounds of disgust rippled through the room and the empty space around Seamus grew wider as stufents stepped back further.

Hermione looked sick for a moment and cast a quick cleaning spell. Seamus gave her a grateful look and slid down the wall to the floor. "They cut up some of the twins' Skiving candies and mixed them in with the food. The spells they used to check the food didn't detect it, but apparently George figured it when Ginny's nose started bleeding." She shook her head, watching as Lee rushed down the stairs and over to Seamus, leaning down to pass him half of a Puking Pastille.

"What happened to the twins?" Harry asked, following Hermione as she led Lee out the common room and down to the Great Hall.

She waved a hand, obviously annoyed. "Fainted. I told you those candies were bad news. How did Slytherins even get their hands on them?" she wondered aloud. Harry glanced over at Lee. The other boy's eyes widened innocently but Harry had long since learned the guilty signs of the twins and their best friend. The Weasleys' black market had been turned against them and it took all his self-control to hide his smile at the irony and simply shrug when Hermione glanced back at him.

It was a little tricky, getting the twins to swallow the bit of candy, but they came to their senses quickly. "I can't believe they used our own candies against us!" Fred exclaimed for the third time and stumbled his next step. Harry moved forward to help, but the boy waved him away. "And how'd they even get it in the food?"

Hermione shook her head as she followed behind them. Though both Fred and George had insisted they didn't need any help getting to their first class, she and Harry had tagged along to watch out for disoriented pair, sending Lee ahead to explain their tardiness. "Chances are they had the same kind of help you two did," she concluded. "Though why the house-elves might help that bunch is beyond me."

George snorted, leaning on the wall for a moment as if suffering a dizzy spell. "They're Slytherins. Rich brats probably own their cousins or something," he snarled. While Fred seemed partly amused and partly in shock at the Slytherin trick, George was just short of angry. "Mixing those snacks up like that was dangerous!" he explained when Harry finally got the nerve to ask. "Fred and I have tried it before and it isn't easy to work through, especially when you don't have the other half on hand." Fred nodded once, then turned his full concentration to mounting the stairs. "That's why we can barely walk now. I'm sure the only reason you didn't see us puking our guts all over the Great Hall floor was because we'd already passed out on it."

"Maybe you two should be going to the infirmary instead," Hermione suggest, reaching out reflexively when Fred stumbled again.

"And let those brats think they managed to get the best of us? Not on your life," George retorted and stopped just outside his classroom door. "No. They cost us about a quarter of our inventory because of this. We need to work out our next move. No place quite so boring as class to work out your problems," he finished with a bit of his normal humor slipping in.

Harry and Hermione made sure the boys got inside without incident then headed down to DADA. "You know," Harry started slowly, "they are possibly the only two here who would ever think to plan a prank in McGonagall's class."

"No one ever said the boys were smart, no matter how talented they might be," Hermione laughed. Then she looked at Harry out the corner of her eyes. "I feel like I hardly see you anymore, Harry," she commented and Harry nodded absently. With the play and the Slytherins and classes, Hermione had certainly been busy, so it was no surprise that she'd notice it eventually. "How are things?"

He shrugged. "Fine." It was a familiar answer, though certainly not the truth, and Harry knew that Hermione might figure it out. But he'd learned a few things since her last nagging and acting could come in handy for more than just theatre. Harry gave her a smile he was sure looked genuine. He'd been practicing in front of a mirror just the expressions he'd have to make during each scene of the play, per Malfoy's order, and he knew this one came out just right.

Hermione looked at him carefully for a quiet moment, then smiled back, apparently accepting his little white lie as truth. "Well, that's good. I've been a little worried about you, you know. But I suppose you've been spending a lot of time with your new friend." Harry tripped a little then, righting himself before the girl looked over. His new friend? "Lisa's doing a fantastic job from what I hear. Half the cast was going on about that stage rehearsal you guys had last week."

Harry took a deep breath, letting Hermione chatter on. So she didn't know. That was a relief. But why? Just yesterday, he was looking for someone to talk to, had been waiting for a friend to give him the advice they'd always seemed to have when he didn't want it. Now he had a moment with someone whose opinion and thoughts he respected more than almost anyone else and here he was, praying Hermione wouldn't figure him out.

In DADA, the Slytherins were at the top of their game, mimicking the faints and nosebleeds and puking of their Gryffindor classmates. If they were disappointed that they'd only managed to prank a small portion of the other house, they hid it well. Not that Harry particularly cared. He was far too busy pretending not to be focused on a certain blond who was seated at the front of the room, his chin in one hand as he smiled almost fondly at the antics of his dorm mates. Even so, Harry managed to notice that Malfoy didn't look in his direction even once and it made the knots in his stomach grow.

How could he have done something so stupid on a Sunday? The day before rehearsal, two days before his private session with his "tutor". If he absolutely had to be stupid, there were better days to do it on. Friday, perhaps. If he did something stupid on a Friday, there was time for people to forget the importance of the act, but on a Sunday? And now, he had all day, filled with classes and Slytherins, to look forward to rehearsal.

Fantastic.

**A/N: Since I think someone at work made me sick (I'm feeling a little ill here!), I'm going to have to stop now, even though its a bit shorter than usual. I know you guys wanted a confrontation, but I like torture to be a little drawn out. It's more fun. That explanation given, I'll just move on to my thankies. Thanks to ihateee, AlineDaryen, Sophia Anna-Mae, Embzy, Chalcedony Rivers, LyricallyInspired, AnimeFreak2468, Ibbet, Cinders Kitten, globalfaerie, purplerawr, DMbranolaHP, HinaLuvLuvChan, DrakWiccanPrincess, Lady-Umbreon, RebeccaMarieCullen, Draco and Hermione is like PBJ, whitelonewolf, Horseygirl7, SexySpeedDemon, Destiny Lot, nimless vs HiM'e'iTSu, momo123, Closet Chocoholic, Dezra, and paintupurple for the reviews. Thanks so much for reading! And might I just add, it figures that I get sick on my one day off a week. It just figures. *sigh***


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: So, normally, I'd be waiting for more reviews but consider this a Valentine's Day present. I guess all this love in the air has inspired me, so enjoy an update in which I don't have to apologize for lateness!**

Having been unable to focus in any of his classes all day long, for which Snape was delighted to take points from Gryffindor, Harry had had time to think of several different explanations he might offer when Malfoy finally confronted him. Waiting for it to happen was beginning to drive him insane. It was already halfway through his rehearsal and the other boy still hadn't so much as looked his way.

Of course, Trelawney had taken Harry and Lisa a bit further away than the others, insisting that their scenes together be absolutely perfect, and Malfoy had remained on the other side of the room with Binns and the entire rest of the cast. So Harry could suppose that the distance had something to do with his completely ignoring him. Thinking that this may be the case did make him feel a bit better, but Harry wasn't as much an optimist as he tried to be and too quickly he was back to thinking that he'd made Malfoy hate him again.

Trelawney interrupted his rather bland performance, going on and on about romance and tragedy and a few other things Harry paid no attention to. The thought that Malfoy might hate him was surprisingly painful, and not just because he was nursing a crush on the other boy. He could never be called friendly, but Harry had seen a side of Draco Malfoy that he'd never been privy to before, a side that was funny and gentle and a little obsessed with chocolate. A side that snuck out after curfew to fly in the night. "So that's who you've been spending your Tuesdays with," a voice near him observed softly. "I'll admit to having been more than a little curious."

Harry felt his eyes widen and his heart stop beating for a moment, a sure sign that panic was seconds from taking over. He turned to look at Lisa, thankful at least that Trelawney had moved across the room to discuss something or other with Binns. "Wha-" he cleared his throat and tried again. "What do you mean?"

The look she gave him then told him that there was no point in playing dumb. "I'm a Ravenclaw, Harry," she explained, as if he didn't already know. "It's a hobby of mine to find out things I'm curious about, and even a blind man could see that you're not at all interested in reciting these lines with me." She shook her head and looked back over at Malfoy, who was currently practicing his lines with Seamus. "If your quick improvement is one, your sudden preoccupation with Malfoy is two, and this niggling suspicion I have that you're thinking about someone else when you say these words of love with me is three, well, I know how to get six," Lisa laughed.

The Ravenclaw girl was just entirely too smart for Harry's comfort. "You can't... I mean, please don't..." Harry couldn't finish and his blush rose to take over his face with the uncomfortable heat of embarrassment.

"I'm not going to tell, if that's what you're getting at," Lisa said, an offended tone in the words, and crossed her arms over her chest. "It isn't my business, for one thing. Really, is your opinion of me so low?"

Harry shook his head. "Of course not," he managed, pulling nervously at a lock of hair hanging in front of his ear. "It's just...ugh. It's hard to explain," he finished, the words sounding lame even to himself.

But Lisa seemed to understand what he meant, even when he was expressing himself so poorly. "I get it. You're supposed to be rivals after all, besides being both boys. But just so you know, people are more accepting than you think. And it's obvious something happened between the two of you recently." She waved a hand in Malfoy's direction.

"Really?" Harry moaned. Had other people noticed, or was it only Lisa who seemed so gifted? Harry really hoped it was only Lisa.

Lisa nodded. "Well, it is to someone who's been spending as much time with you lately as I have. You are definitely out of sorts today. And you know, the only sensible thing is to talk it out. I really believe there isn't a problem you can't solve if you work on it together." It was clear to Harry that she wasn't talking about him anymore, but rather about her beloved boyfriend in Hogsmeade. Even so, maybe the girl had the right of it. Instead of just waiting for Malfoy to come to him, Harry should do the Gryffindor thing, as Seamus had once demanded he do, and face the issue head on.

But even after coming to this decision, Harry found himself unable to carry through. Malfoy was avoiding him. The other boy wouldn't even look at Harry long enough for him to ask if their lesson was still on schedule for tomorrow. So Harry spent all of Tuesday redirecting Hermione's curiosity to Ron, who he was sure appreciated the attention she paid to his Montague costumes, while waiting impatiently for that evening.

But when he arrived, the room was empty. Harry spun around again, checking under the desk, not because he seriously believed that Malfoy might actually be hiding there, but rather because he didn't want to believe that he'd forced the other boy away. "What are you doing?" The coolly asked questioned startled Harry enough that he hit his head on the bottom of the desk and he let out a curse as tears filled his eyes. How did Malfoy always manage to catch him at his worst?

It took a moment before Harry could form a suitable answer in his mind, and when he finally stood, Malfoy didn't seem to even want one anymore. He tossed a rapier at Harry, who immediately recognized it as one of the ones that Hermione and Ron had so painstakingly dulled only weeks before. "Lift your sword," he ordered, holding his own aloft.

Harry blinked a few times, looking between Malfoy and the sword in his hand. Standing there, feet spread, one hand behind his back and eyes narrowed with determination, Harry couldn't help but stare at the fierce figure Malfoy presented. If he wasn't already sure he had a crush on the boy, just seeing that might have done the trick. "What's all this?" he finally managed to squeak past his shock.

Malfoy rolled his eyes, but never dropped his guard as he explained, in a tone one might use when dealing with a five year old, "Romeo and Tybalt are going to fight. Isn't it best if you learn how to at least look like you know how?" Harry blushed and moved to mimic Malfoy's position. Of course that's what this was about. The clang of Malfoy's rapier striking his came as a surprise, and the vibrations traveling through the sword nearly numbed his entire arm. "Focus, Potter," Malfoy demanded, and Harry muttered a curse as he dodged another attack. "You're not going to learn anything if you don't strike back."

Harry nodded, lifting his sword to block Malfoy's. It hurt, and Malfoy's eyes were narrowed, as if in anger. It hit Harry only then. Malfoy was being serious. It wasn't some kind of practice but revenge. He really was angry about that kiss and he wasn't going to let Harry explain. He managed to block a few more strikes before his foot caught on a desk leg and his eyes widened as he fell, hands flailing out.

Malfoy's hand moved with lightening speed, grabbing Harry's wrist and pulling him forward. Harry barely registered his sword clinking to the stone floor. There were more interesting things to focus on. Like Malfoy's arm wrapped tight around his shoulders, holding Harry close to his chest. Or Malfoy's hand gripped around his wrist so that Harry was sure there would be finger-shaped bruises the next day.

Or Malfoy's mouth, pressed against his as if it was made to fit. That taste, that he'd only gotten a sample of two days ago, remarkably subtle and yet somehow overpowering to all his senses, invading and implanting on his memory a stamp that said in all capitals: MALFOY.

And Malfoy, releasing him so suddenly and smiling down at him as he stumbled back, his legs unable to support him so that it took the rest of his strength to sit in the nearest desk. "And now we're even, Potter," Malfoy drawled, and Harry hated that his voice was so calm, especially since he knew, had he tried to speak at that moment, he'd be lucky if he could manage a squeak. But the Slytherin knelt, picking up Harry's discarded sword and dropping it on the teacher's desk with his own before striding out the room with measured steps.

Harry watched the door for a moment, half-hoping he'd come back. Then, crossing his arms on the desk, he let his head drop, fighting back the trembling that slowly took over his entire being. It was like Malfoy's kiss had electrified every individual cell in his body and Harry couldn't find himself regretting it, even if Malfoy hadn't meant it.

It was a good thing he was a Gryffindor, because no other house in Hogwarts would tolerate the sheer stupidity that forced the whisper in Harry's mind, not the boa's voice, or any other number of unreasonable voices that tempted him from time to time, but his own. Loud, and clear and 110% certain.

_I want more_.

And Harry couldn't deny it.

**A/N: So was that good? Let me know! And for those who did so on my last chapter, I give you sparkly-Valentine shaped thanks! Thanks to LyricallyInspired, LIGHTNSHADOWS, purplerawr, SunshineAndDaisies, Ibbet, Lady-Umbreon, HiM'e'iTSu, AnimeFreak2468, SexySpeedDemon, Draco and Hermione is like PBJ, DMbranolaHP, brionyjae, AlineDaryen, Horseygirl7, and DarkWiccanPrincess. I wasn't lazy! Point for me! Heh. Happy Valentine's Day!**


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: Ha! You can't blame me for tardiness this time! It was my birthday and immediately after, I caught the flu or some such horrid sickness. Left me laid up for days! Blame nature this time and let's ignore the writer's block I suffered from simultaneously, ok?**

Seamus had more bravery than any Gryffindor had ever given him credit for, Harry decided two weeks later. The next rehearsal would be the long-awaited full dress rehearsal and Hermione and her unwilling recruits had pulled aside nearly half of the cast as they hurriedly finished fittings. That she trusted her Slytherin crew with the sets they'd destroyed more than once said much about Hermione's state of panic. Time was drawing short, Binns had more than once told the girl, and the pressure was weighing on her enough that even Harry could sense it. The absence of actors did nothing to deter Trelawney however. The bug-eyed professor was intent on staying on schedule and Seamus stood across the stage from Malfoy.

Despite the fact that this would be the scene of his character's death, Seamus seemed completely unconcerned, throwing himself so entirely into the role of Mercutio that one might have believed he really was Justin's best friend. "By my head, here come the Capulets," Justin announced, much more at ease without Malfoy glaring him down, and Harry straightened from leaning against the wall. He would be called to enter soon, but that wasn't why he suddenly decided to pay attention. Malfoy was walking across the stage, flanked by Capulet-cast cohorts, and even though the boy hadn't spared him a glance in the last two weeks, Harry could still feel the blush the mere sight of the Slytherin encouraged rising on his cheeks.

"By my heel, I care not," Seamus gave his answer flippantly, but Harry hardly noticed. He chewed on his thumbnail as he watched Malfoy and Seamus exchanging lines. Malfoy had kissed him, he'd dreamed about that moment too many times to have imagined it, but the other boy had completely avoided him ever since. Though he'd waited three hours in that dusty room, Malfoy hadn't shown up for their usual practice session, and Harry had gotten the opportunity once to ask why. Malfoy's answer, that Harry no longer needed the lessons, had made sense of course, but Harry wasn't satisfied. He'd only just come to terms with his feelings for Malfoy, and now the blond wanted nothing to do with him?

He strolled out onto the stage, fighting the urge to bite his lip at the shivers than ran up his spine when Malfoy drawled in that cold tone that only barely hid the anger, real or feigned Harry was increasingly unable to define, "Well, peace be with you sir, here comes my man."

And Seamus' words flew past his ears, only the buzzing of a mosquito for all Harry could make of it, when Malfoy's gray gaze met his. There were too many words in this section, Harry decided, that he would very much like taken another way. Damn Shakespeare anyway, Harry thought, choosing to ignore, like any sane Gryffindor, that the long-dead wizard couldn't actually be faulted for his falling in love with Draco Malfoy. "Romeo," Malfoy snarled, turning away from Seamus entirely, "the love I bear thee can afford no better term than this- thou art a villain."

They were only lines in a play, but still the words hurt. Malfoy was an exceptionally good actor, Harry had already learned over the weeks, but it still felt as if it were Malfoy, not just Tybalt, accusing him of some crime or other. He'd apologized, or rather, he'd tried to. It wasn't his fault that the other boy hadn't really given him the opportunity and why was Seamus gesturing so enthusiastically? Harry flushed when he noticed the impatient look on Draco's face. He'd almost forgotten his own lines and he hurriedly replied, hoping the silence hadn't dragged on too long. "Tybalt, the reason I have to love thee doth much excuse the appertaining rage to such a greeting. Villain am I none. Therefore, farewell, I see thou know'st me not."

Over Malfoy's shoulder, Harry could see Justin and Seamus exchange a surprised look and he didn't have to turn his head a bit to know that they weren't the only ones. Even he was a bit in awe of how well he'd managed to catch Romeo's emotion in that line, and wondered how much of it he had to thank Malfoy for.

It was a short-lived moment of pleasure though and too soon Malfoy interrupted, snarling, "Boy, this shall not excuse the injuries that thou hast done me." He moved forward, his entire attitude menacing enough that Harry almost gulped. "Therefore turn and draw."

"I do protest," Harry started but it sounded unsure, even to his own ears. He caught a glimpse of victory in Malfoy's eyes and straightened his back. If he couldn't take on Malfoy in a play, no way could he do it in real life. Where ever his spine had gone, it was time to get it back. He was Harry Potter, who wasn't a coward, and it was time to start acting like it. "I never injured thee," he continued, only a little disappointed that Malfoy's expression never faltered at the sudden strength of his words. "But love thee better than thou canst devise till thou shalt know the reason of my love. An so, good Capulet, which name I tender as dearly as mine on, be satisfied."

Seamus broke in then, drawing Malfoy's gaze finally away from Harry, and Harry breathed a small sigh of relief that he would never admit to. "Oh, calm, dishonorable, vile submission," the Irish boy proclaimed, playing the disgusted friend almost too well. At least, Harry almost smiled at the sight. "_Alla stoccata_ carries it away." He reached down and pulled one of Ron's dulled swords from his belt, hardly able to contain his excitement at finally getting to wield it. He wasn't the only member of the cast who'd been looking forward to the sword fights. "Tybalt, you rat catcher, will you walk?"

Draco turned smoothly to Seamus, and Harry envied his grace as the boy rested his hand on the hilt of the sword hanging from his own waist. "What wouldst thou have with me?" he drawled, but the casual air didn't fool anyone of his admirers. Even if they hadn't known what was coming, Harry was sure anyone listening could guess just from the dangerous lift of Malfoy's brow.

"Good King of Cats, nothing but one of your nine lives, that I mean to make bold withal, and, as you shall use me hereafter, dry-beat the rest of the eight." It had long been a mystery to Harry just how Seamus managed to combine humor and anger into one, but it made for an entertaining Mercutio. He almost dreaded the moment that Seamus would leave the play. It was a tragedy that lost it comedic edge when Mercutio fell.

Harry shook himself from his contemplation just in time to cry out his own line, which of course went ignored. "Come sir, your _passado_!" The clanging of the swords rang through the hall, drowning out Romeo's protests and when Malfoy stabbed at Seamus under Harry's arm, the gasp of pain sounded almost too real. He spun around, not bothering to watch as Draco and the Capulet actors left the stage. "I am hurt!" Seamus proclaimed, but Harry sighed. He was only acting. When had Seamus gotten so good?

"Well done!" Binns cried out, interrupting the rehearsal and Harry sat back on his heels as he watched the two professors flitting about the stage, correcting a position here and offering a suggestion there. To Malfoy, they said nothing but praise and Harry couldn't blame them in the slightest, even as Trelawney demanded more feeling from him.

They chose to end rehearsal there, much to Seamus' quite vocal displeasure. "I wanted to see Harry fight," he whined to Dean, who only nodded as he stuck another pin through the hem of a Montague tunic, apologizing absently when the needle struck flesh and his model cursed sharply.

Harry gave them no more attention then, choosing instead to watch Draco curiously. He was speaking with a couple of Slytherins Harry immediately recognized as members of the stage crew, and though he couldn't hear what was being said, it was clear that Draco was less than happy. Perhaps it wasn't the best of times to try and re-establish contact with him, but Harry had a information and it wouldn't do him any good to hold onto it for a few more days.

As busy as she'd been the last few weeks, Hermione had still found the time to plan with Fred and George and the trio was finally ready to unleash their return attack against the Slytherins who'd dared to tamper with their food, who'd dared to genuinely anger George. Warning Malfoy of the impending attack was a good a reason as any to talk with him even once more. He waited until Malfoy finished his conversation with the two Slytherins and excused himself from Seamus and Dean, who hardly noticed, before following Malfoy to the door.

Malfoy didn't look back but Harry could tell he knew that he was being followed. He was heading straight for the Arithmancy room. "What is it, Potter," he snarled turning on his heel and glaring down at him as soon as the door had closed.

Harry took a deep breath. He'd found his spine now! He was a Gryffindor! And Merlin's beard, he was only offering a warning. It wasn't like he was hoping Malfoy would kiss him again. That he actually did was beside the point. "The twins are going after your dorms again," Harry said, glad that he managed to sound normal.

Draco's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "They haven't given up then?" he asked after several tense moments of silence and Harry laughed.

"Fred and George?" he choked out between chuckles. "You must be joking! Just because your Slytherins knocked them out doesn't mean they're going to quit. It only elevated your house from harmless playthings to worthy opponents in their eyes. They're headed for blood now, and it's not just because Hermione told them to." He shook his head, still laughing a little at Draco's absurd assumption. "In any case, I'd stay away from your dorms for the next few days. It's not going to be pretty."

Malfoy paced across the room a little, then leaned against the edge of the teacher's desk. "Why are you telling me this?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. That he'd gotten his revenge for the "accidental" kiss and had severed the civil relationship between them meant that Harry was no longer under any obligation to him. Of course he'd want to know why Harry was still trying to help.

Backbone, Harry reminded himself as he raised his eyes to Malfoy's. "Because I... don't hate you," he finally answered. It wasn't want he'd wanted to say but somehow, the words were stuck in his throat and these were the best he could form. He pushed his hands into his pockets, hoping to hide the slight trembling in his fingers.

"Our deal is over, Potter," Malfoy said, but rather than the anger or even ridicule Harry expected, the other boy just sounded weary. "I helped you out and you paid me for my time. It doesn't indebt you to me for life and it certainly doesn't mean that we're friends."

"Why not?" Harry asked, not caring that he was interrupting and Draco's eyes widened slightly with surprise. "I mean, I know you're a Slytherin and I'm a Gryffindor and I know we never really got along before now, but... it was fun. Spending a few hours with you, away from everyone else. It was...fun," he finished lamely. All the other words he could think to say- that being with Malfoy, even when the other boy was being mean, was the better than time spent with his own friends, that he enjoyed uncovering faucets in the boy's personality that he'd never seen before, that he liked even the simple things he did, the expressions he showed, and the unconscious grace that only Malfoy possessed- he couldn't admit aloud, even with his newly recovered backbone, at least not when Malfoy was watching him so intently.

Draco shook his head, a small smile playing at the edges of his lips. It wasn't humor though, Harry noticed, and the slight curve seemed almost sad. "Sorry, Potter," Malfoy replied, pushing himself away from the desk and moving towards Harry and the door. "But I can't see us being friends." He waited for Harry to step aside and left the room, not glancing even once over his shoulder.

Harry turned, leaning his forehead against the wall and letting the stones cool his heated face. _I can't see us being friends._ He'd never been very good with words, and Harry wondered, if he'd been able to say all that he'd been thinking, if he'd managed somehow to make his love known to the other boy, would his heart still be in such pain now? He closed his eyes, fighting back the burning sensation that meant tears were threatening.

He was a Gryffindor, and Gryffindor boys didn't cry unless all was lost. Harry staunchly denied the tear that slid down his cheek and gripped his fists tighter in his pockets as he held back any other traitors.

**A/N: I had to get this posted tonight! And now I'm super proud. Go, me! Anyhow, thanks to LyricallyInspired, AnimeFreak2468, cyiusblack, AlineDaryen, SushiBar, magnusXalec, Draco and Hermione is like PBJ, DMbranolaHP, Cinders Kitten, amber v, Jadian Naiya, Horseygirl7, 13 eleMENTAL 31, Ibbet, Lady-Umbreon, TheSlashBunny, SexySpeedDemon, brionyjae, Kuraiyoshi, Johnnydspiratequeen, DarkWiccanPrincess, purplerawr, Embzy, Midori Heiwa, YYWKMN (thankies for abbreviation permission!), SunshineAndDaisies, Zoomi, DHrKindaFott, srey nait, and HiM'e'iTSu for the wonderful reviews! I feel like I'm forgetting someone earlier, but I counted and it seems right. Hmm~**


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: Don't hate me! I've had this written for a while and I could have sworn I posted it, but I just realized I hadn't. So sorry!**

"What's wrong with you, Potter?" Lisa asked him a few days later. It wasn't the first time he'd heard the question and it wasn't the first time he'd tried to shrug it off. The twins' revenge had kicked in with full force, and while every other student celebrated with peals of laughter and victorious cheers, Harry couldn't force himself to even pretend to appreciate all the work and research they'd insisted had gone into it.

And there had been a lot, Harry could tell. It couldn't have been easy creating a different punishment for every Slytherin, even with the help of Lee, Hermione and "certain unnamed sources." That first day, when Crabbe and Goyle nearly burst into tears, lamenting loudly that everything tasted like ash, Draco had sent Harry a narrow glare, then stood and left the room in his usual flurry of robes.

He couldn't laugh. He wouldn't cry. He'd taken to maintaining a blank expression, but it attracted more worry from Hermione. She'd asked him about it, during his final fitting in the common room. He'd given her some sort of bland answer that she didn't buy even for a moment. After a few minutes' silent study of his puffy sleeves, picking at a loose hem, she finally asked, "Does this have something to do with your girlfriend?"

Harry had been glad he'd been only standing. If he'd been moving, he was sure he would have tripped. Even so busy, with her mind preoccupied with the play and the props and her war on the Slytherins, Hermione was still the most perceptive person he knew. She was watching him carefully, so he sighed, too tired to lie again, especially when he could tell she wouldn't believe anything but the truth. "It... isn't going well," he confessed softly. "I don't want to talk about it."

Something in his face, and Harry was betting it was the tears he was still fighting back, got through to Hermione and she bit her lip, nodding a little. She didn't say anything else and Harry was grateful. But before he headed upstairs to change back into his own clothes, she pulled him into a hug, patting his back a little before letting him go. It was good to know that no matter how busy his friends were, they were always still there, ready to offer their silent support. It made him feel a little better. Not much, but still better.

Still, the constant questions- "What's wrong, Harry?" "Alright there, mate?"- became really irritating. Harry was glad when Fred and George's antics began to take attention away from him. Lisa though was a true multi-tasker, her mind always covering many different topics and ready to zoom in on one at any given moment. It was why Harry figured she'd be good friends with Hermione. That and her tenaciousness. "Well?" she prompted, refusing to let Harry back out of the conversation. She watched him carefully, then shook her head. "Things are going badly with your Juliet, I suppose," Lisa sighed and rested her chin in her hand.

Harry crossed his arms and buried his face in the crook of his elbow. Part of him appreciated Lisa's discretion in not using Draco's name, they were in the library after all, but the rest of him wished she'd drop the subject. He didn't want to think about Malfoy ever again. "I tried to tell..." he paused, not quite sure how to continue.

"Juliet," Lisa supplied, leaning closer to hear him.

Harry nodded a little, still not looking up. "Yeah. I tried to tell Juliet how I felt, but it came out all wrong."

Lisa waited patiently. After a few silent minutes, she asked, "What did Juliet say?"

Harry pushed his head further into his arms. He lifted one and ran his hand through his hair. "That we could never be friends," he explained softly, brushing his fingers over his forehead. He could feel the headache coming on.

"That's strange," Lisa murmured, leaning back in her chair and playing absently with the tips of her dark hair. "I would not have bet on that response." Lisa bit her lip thoughtfully. "What exactly did your Juliet say?"

He sighed. As if he could forget. The words ran through his mind at least twelve times an hour. "Juliet can't see us being friends." There was a pounding now. It was still soft but Harry could tell, in minutes it would become a full-blown headache. He wondered absently if Hermione still had any of her headache powder. "I didn't know what I was doing the whole time we were hanging out. I still don't know what to do. You're smart, Lisa. Just tell me, okay?" He wasn't begging. He was too tired to beg, too wary of the coming migraine to bother pleading.

But Lisa patted his head, very much like an older, and thus wiser, sister. "Same advice, Potter," she smiled down at him. "You have to talk, and not whatever mumbling I'm sure you were doing that made a mess of this whole situation to begin with, but actual words." She leaned her head forward, resting her chin on the table to look him in the eyes. "You know what words I'm talking about? Just three," she waggled three fingers at him. "Go... to...hell." Then the Ravenclaw laughed at the look of shock that came over Harry's face. "Relax, Potter," she waved her hand at him. "I'm only joking. You looked so down, I just couldn't help it!" She giggled again. "You know what the words are, so you don't need me to tell you. Just find the right moment and spit them out. And, for God's sake, don't use your head."

Harry smiled a bit then. How ironic that a Ravenclaw was insisting on not using logic and reason, not that Harry ever actually relied on those particular traits to begin with... "Matters of the heart can't be dealt with using your head," she explained, ignoring Harry's grin. "You'll always screw it up because your head likes to point out things that could go wrong. Why do you think most Ravenclaws have joyless marriages?" she whispered and shuddered as if she dreaded such a future.

"They used their heads?" he guessed and laughed when Lisa nodded, clapping her hands cheerfully.

"Precisely, my dear lion. They used their heads. It's the same for a lot of Slytherins now that I think of it..." she trailed off and frowned a bit. Harry could tell she was running down a mental list of Slytherin and Ravenclaw alumnae. Then she shrugged, apparently losing interest. "In any case, you should know, there's going to come a moment when you find that you have to say those words. If you let that moment pass, and you don't do anything, you'll lose your Juliet. Then you won't get another chance. It pretty much sucks and then you have to move on, because there's no point looking back."

"Did that happen to you?" Harry asked, curious about the sadness that had come over the normally cheery girl.

She shook it off and laughed. "Of course not. I've got my Romeo. It was my sister. She's very depressing to be around these days and I'd rather that not happen to you or your Juliet. So make sure it doesn't." She stood, stretching her arms over her head. "Well, Potter, that's all for now. I have to say, if we continue these sessions, I'll have to start charging."

"Thanks, Lisa," Harry called as she turned to leave.

She smiled back at him. "Anytime, Harry. Now finish your essay."

It was such a Hermione thing to say, with such a Hermione expression, that Harry couldn't help but laugh a bit at it. And the threatening headache had stopped its approach, like Lisa's words had scared it away. He shook his head a bit, and leaned his chin on his hand, looking down at the blank parchment in front of him. "Finish it," Lisa called from the door, earning herself a glare from Madame Pince. Harry's quill started moving, almost of its own accord, and because what was coming out wasn't too terrible, Harry let it continue. When it seemed his quill had nothing else to say, Harry shrugged, rolled up the parchment and leaned his head on his hand to stare out the window next to him.

He straightened when he noticed Fred and George standing near one of the trees. They were leaning casually and it looked like they were talking. If he hadn't noticed Hermione and Ron seated on the grass a few feet away, pretending to study, he might not have paid any attention. But there was only one reason he could figure that Hermione would take a break from her busy schedule. Harry leaned closer, nearly pressing his face against the window as he scanned the students meandering about the grounds below. "Whoa…" he whispered, flinching a little at the gargoyle's sudden appearance. It swooped down and latched onto the shoulders of a Slytherin boy. Harry couldn't make out his face but even though the window pane, he could hear the boy's screams.

As the gargoyle rose higher into the air, the boy's flailing limbs and panicked cries attracted the attention of others in the library and soon Harry found himself surrounded by students gasping and giggling with delight. At least, until the boy squirmed his way loose and fell nearly twenty feet to the ground. "Oh, crud," Harry cried, and pushed his way through the crowd. It was just his bloody luck that the screaming Slytherin had managed to land on Seamus.

**A/N: Thanks to supecoolfreak, SunshineAndDaisies, HeartofaGoddess2009, LyricallyInspired, DMbranolaHP, purplerawr, Angeena, October in a Box, Lady-Umbreon, Ibbet, SexySpeedDemon, Draco and Hermione is like PBJ, violetkitty02, AnimeFreak2468, YYWKMN, Caldonya, Lia-Lily, AlineDaryen, Horseygirl7, TayTai-BloodBlueRose, boredom is a crime, paintupurple, HiM'e'iTsu, and RebeccaMarieCullen for the lovely reviews. And again, I'm so sorry I spaced!**


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: It has been a while so I think it's time I re-entered the world. **

"I'm fine, really," Seamus voice rang out through the hospital wing several hours later. Hermione ignored the boy's insistence, for the umpteenth time, and continued her stream of apologies. She'd never intended for anyone to actually get hurt, not even the Slytherin whose fear of heights they'd been toying with, much less an innocent bystander. "I understand. It was an accident," Seamus repeated, clenching his hands into the blanket he didn't really need but Hermione had insisted he use anyway. Harry frowned at his tone. The Irish boy was starting to get frustrated and for someone as happy-go-lucky as Seamus, it generally took a lot to push him that far.

"Hermione," Harry called, placing a hand on the girl's shoulder as he interrupted another heartfelt apology, "maybe you should go check up on the twins. They've been on their own for a while now..." he trailed off suggestively. Hermione stared at him blankly for a moment, then her eyes widened, as if realizing all the trouble the two could accomplish when left to their own devices, and she shot from the chair, hardly taking the time to excuse herself from the others before leaving the room a too brisk walk, as close to a jog as Harry had ever seen her when her life wasn't on the line. Ron followed behind with his hands in his pockets and ears burning red with shame. He wasn't much for apologies after all, and Hermione had been pushing him for one for the last half hour.

Seamus sent him a thankful look and shoved the blankets back from his legs, standing as soon as the doors closed. "I kept telling them I wasn't hurt," he muttered, stretching his arms above his head. And he wasn't. It was a wizards' school after all and it would take more than a hundred and thirty pound third year falling from the sky to take out Seamus Finnegan anyway. "They just would _not_ listen."

Harry shook his head. "You know Hermione. Once she figures something's her fault, she'll never let it die." He helped Seamus find his bag, which had been kicked under the bed by some over-eager visitor or other and walked with the other boy to the door, calling out a farewell to Madame Pomfrey, who replied from somewhere in the stockrooms, and waving politely to the acrophobic Slytherin, still curled in a ball beneath the crisp white bedsheets. He hadn't expected a reponse and so wasn't bothered that he didn't get one. "I'm just glad she forgot about Snape." The dark professor had swooped, seemingly out of nowhere, to take charge of the situation immediately after the Slytherin's fall, ordering students to take both him and Seamus to the hospital ward before grabbing each twin by the ear in a grip Harry was sure Mrs. Weasley would admire and dragging the much protesting pair to the dungeons for a very long and torturous detention.

"Well, at least I can milk this for the next few days. 'Oh, Hermione, I know we covered this in class but I just can't seem to remember it. Could you give us a hand?'" Seamus said, voice sounding horribly pathetic and grinned when Harry just laughed. "Think she'll go for it?"

"It's worth a shot," Harry replied, though he didn't quite agree with the method. But he'd thought that this war should have been over long ago, so he wasn't about to stop Seamus from getting just a little bit of revenge, especially the harmless kind. He stood straight at the loud clattering that came from around the corner, as if someone had just run into one of the many suits of armor that stood around the castle and breathed a sigh of relief when Dean, looking well into a state of panic, hopped into view, viciously kicking at helmet that clung stubbornly to his foot.

When he finally disconnected it, after many curses, he started forward again, skidding to a halt only a step from Seamus. Dean leaned on his knees, breathing heavily for a moment and Harry judged by the sweat on his brow that he run quite a distance, before crying out, "I'm so sorry! I was finishing up the set and no one told me what happened. I should've..." Whatever he should have was lost in Seamus' shoulder as the boy threw his arms around Dean's neck.

Part of Harry was glad that his friend was so happy, his face lit up like Christmas morning. He could tell the entire time they'd been sitting in the hospital wing that that Seamus had been waiting for this someone in particular. The rest of him, however, was verging on jealousy and he refused to let his own problems ruin a moment between his friends. So he called good-bye, not that he thought the two actually noticed, and turned away, strolling off on his own.

Harry enjoyed wandering the castle at night, more so after curfew and with his trusty cloak, but he could make do, even with a few other students moving about and the sun still partially visible. There always seemed a hall he'd never explored or a painting he'd never seen, and uncovering the mysteries of the school, with or without his map, had always been a pleasant and worry-free way to pass his rare minutes of free time. He was a bit irritated when his walk was interrupted, but since it was Draco Malfoy's voice he heard moving toward him, he reined it in and ducked quickly into the shadows behind a large statue that looked suspiciously like Grawp. That rejection had hurt, even more than he'd confessed to Lisa, and he still didn't feel like facing the other boy just yet, regardless of her advice.

"What a ridiculous thing to say," a voice Harry recognized as belonging to Pansy Parkinson was scolding the boy as they moved closer to the statue, stopping a few paces away at a window where the waters of the lake, rippling the reds and golds of a spectacular sunset that none of the three present paid any mind to could be seen.

"What was I supposed to do? It wasn't what I needed, Pansy darling," Draco replied and Harry chanced a peek between the statue's legs. He was leaning, as Harry had seen so often in their lessons room, against the edge of the sill, arms crossed over his chest as he focused all his attention on the girl by his side.

Pansy shook her head, brushing her fingers absently through her dark hair. "Hmm. Have you spoken with Turpin yet?" Harry's ears pricked at Lisa's name. Why would a pair of Slytherins, even this pair, have anything to do with a Ravenclaw?

"Of course not," Draco snapped. "It's too soon to resort to directness, isn't it. No, a situation as delicate as this one requires a bit more patience. She will come to me in her own time." He pushed himself from the wall, dusting his hands together as he strolled away.

Pansy rolled her eyes, and Harry got the feeling that if she thought it was in the least elegant, or at all Slytherin in nature, she would have thrown her hands up in exasperation. "You've been around that cursed Gryffindor for too long, dear. You're catching his stubbornness," she scolded as she followed Draco down the hall, both unaware of the boy sitting on his knees in the shadows.

It was a good thing too, as far as Harry could tell. Slytherins tended to attack someone just at his lowest moment and Harry supposed he couldn't get much lower. Maybe it was the little bit of Slytherin in his nature, or all the time he'd spent with Draco, but Harry could tell what was going on. Draco was in love with Lisa. It was the only reason he'd be talking about the Ravenclaw, and directness and delicate situations. And even if Lisa was too much in love with her own Romeo to even care, it meant that Harry didn't even have a chance.

Harry turned a bit, dropping to sit with his knees curled to his chest and letting his head rest back against the statue's base. He took deep calming breaths, struggling against the tightness in his chest.

He missed his opportunity. And Lisa was right. It pretty much sucked.

**A/N: I think this turned out well for a few hours' work. It was a little sad though, so I had to stop. A depressed Harry makes me blue. Thanks to DarkWiccanPrincess, LyricallyInspired, AlineDaryen, supercoolfreak, October in a Box, brionyjae, AnimeFreak2468, Ibbet, Hoppipollamia, globalfaerie, Horseygirl7, boredom is a crime, SunshineAndDaisies, Strawberry-Green-Girl (x7 (whew!)), Thenchick, -Rosannah-, purplerawr, Lady-Umbreon, and SexySpeedDemon for all the reviews. I appreciate them! Really! **


	24. Chapter 24

"Come, bitter conduct, come, unsavory guide! Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on the dashing rocks thy sea-sick weary bark," Harry said his lines with as much feeling as he could muster as he fumbled slightly with the empty bottle that represented the poison. "Here's to my love," he continued, and pretended to drink, hardly noticing that the hall and all the students in it had fallen silent during this oh-so-important dress rehearsal. "O true apothecary," he stumbled over the words, as if talking were becoming difficult. Lisa had suggested it would make the scene more effective. "Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kiss, I die." He let his arm slip from beneath him, falling to nestle next to Lisa on the wide table that represented the still unfinished monument.

He listened as Baddock and Stewart Ackerly, a Ravenclaw a few years younger than him, held the conversation between Friar Lawrence and Balthasar. They certainly sounded better than they had several weeks ago, he noted absently. But then, so must he. Then he felt Lisa move at his side, but kept his eyes carefully closed. He was supposed to be dead after all, even if it went against his better nature not to react.

"Oh, comfortable friar," Lisa started her lines well enough, but they sounded strange, a little choked. Then she stopped in the middle of her recitation, and started crying. Harry sat up, watching as the girl pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes, though her cheeks were already damp. "I'm sorry," she mumbled more than once, shaking off Harry's hand when he tried to comfort her.

He wasn't entirely sure what was wrong, but it seemed to be affecting other girls in the room. Cho and Hannah were leaning on each others' shoulders, at once sobbing and trying to calm the other down. Even Hermione, turned half away in the shadows near the curtains, wiped discretely at her eyes. Only Pansy Parkinson seemed unaffected and she exchanged a confused look and a shrug with Draco, standing calmly to her left.

"It's just... you're too depressing, Harry!" Lisa finally managed and choked back another sob.

"Perhaps we should break for a few moments," Binns suggested to a teary-eyed Trelawney. "It would give the ladies time to collect themselves." She only nodded and waved her hand as the girls began to move away from the stage.

Lisa half-turned on her perch, turning her full attention on Harry for the first time in days. He could tell what was coming. He'd been trying to avoid this confrontation. How could he tell Lisa, after all the advice and support she'd given him over the last few weeks, that his moment had already passed, that he'd never really stood any kind of a chance with Draco Malfoy? "What happened, Harry? You were fine last time we talked," she said, keeping her voice low as she swiped at her eyes.

Harry shrugged half heartedly, not quite meeting Lisa's piercing gaze. But she was persistent, nudging his side with her elbow. When he still refused to answer, she leaned closer keeping her voice a whisper as she threatened, "If you don't tell me what in bloody hell is going on with you, I swear on Merlin and all his ancestors, that I will stand on this table and shout your secret to the world." It didn't seem like something she would do, and the look Harry gave her said so. So he was completely surprised when she lifted her heavy skirts to the side and clambered up onto the table, mouth open as she took a deep breath.

"Alright, quit it!" he insisted, not bothering to hide the panic in is voice. He pulled at her skirts until she sat back down, earning himself a fierce glare and a short but stern lecture from Hermione. "He's in love with someone else," Harry muttered when Hermione finally stalked away, eyes intent on the pair of Capulet servants scuffling playfully at the back of the room.

Lisa's brows lifted to her hair. "Really? Who?" she asked, swinging her legs back in forth beneath the long red skirt of her costume.

Harry hesitated but Lisa's move to stand again wrenched the words from his mouth. "You. He's in love with you, Lisa."

The girl laughed. Actually laughed! Harry's heart felt as if it had been torn from his chest and trampled by a herd of stampeding centaurs and the girl who had become his friend and advisor was laughing. "You're joking," she concluded, but something in Harry's face wiped away her humor. "Oh, come on. You cannot be serious. The boy hasn't spoken to me in weeks! That is not the usual behavior of someone in love, alright."

"He's a Slytherin," Harry reminded her needlessly. "They don't go about things in the usual way." He looked down at the ends of his shoes, the clunky white tips so at odds with the rest of his costume, but Hermione had decided to simply transfigure them before the actual performance. After all, the shoes weren't quite as important as the tunics and dresses.

Lisa rolled her eyes not that Harry, mired too deeply in self-pity, noticed and the exasperation was plain to hear when she told him, "You jump to conclusions entirely too quickly, and without the evidence to support them. So Harry, unless you heard that boy say, in no uncertain terms 'I love Lisa Turpin', and I would bet every O I received on my OWLS that you didn't hear something even resembling that, then you've once again reached the wrong conclusion."

Harry looked at her wide-eyed. She was right of course. He'd only heard that Malfoy expected Lisa to come to him at some point it the near future, but that didn't mean he wasn't right as well. He opened his mouth to tell her, to show her that he did have evidence for this particular assumption but Lisa held up one hand and shook her head. "No, Harry, I don't want to hear anything more. I don't know if it's because you're a boy or a Gryffindor that you're acting so stupidly, and I don't really care. I've told you everything you need to know and you've refused to act on it. I can only assume that you don't value my input and so, I won't give it to you anymore."

Lisa hopped down from the table, straightened her dress and flipped her braided hair over her shoulder before turning back to look at him. "If I am wrong in this assumption, then you are welcome to prove it. In any case, out of the entirely irrational fear that stupidity may be contagious, I don't want to speak with you outside this play until you've come to terms with your Juliet." That said, Lisa spun on her heel and strode towards Trelawney and Binns, leaving Harry sitting alone on the table as several girls, tears gone from their eyes and having witnessed the soft argument, broke into excited gossip.

Which made the rest of rehearsal both awkward and bordering on torturous.

Even worse was when Harry looked over Seamus' shoulder to find that, just as Malfoy had said, Lisa had gone to the blond Slytherin and appeared in deep discussion with him and the ever present Pansy Parkinson. All of whom looked his way more than once before Lisa and Draco clasped hands and shook. It just didn't bode well for him, Harry figured and sighed.

Lisa stayed true to her word. Aside from Juliet's lines to Romeo, she said absolutely nothing to Harry and wouldn't listen to him long enough for even an apology, though he really believed there was nothing he needed to apologize for. Even worse, and thanks in particular to Lavender Brown, the entire school had been made aware that Harry was having troubles with his "girlfriend" and seemed intent on either offering advice or torment, depending on the house. If any Ravenclaw ever thought to become a Slytherin, Harry figured it might be a good change. Who knew they could offer such creative insults in the defense of one of their own? And though protecting one's own was an admirable quality on most days, Harry wished it hadn't driven Lisa's house to join forces with the Slytherins, who relished the extra torture they could provide to their lion adversaries with the remarkable increase in numbers and intelligence.

All of which seemed horridly unfair to Harry. After all, they hadn't even been dating!

Not that anyone, even the members of his own house, would listen. And since none of the calming tactics he'd tried seemed to have any effect, all Harry could hope for was that the ill humor that had been plaguing most of the school since the start of the play would disappear with it's close.

Hogwarts was a war zone, and because Harry suspected it amused Dumbledore, none of the teachers seemed in any rush to put an end to it. The play opened on Friday night and part of him worried that half the crew wouldn't make it that long. Besides, it was hard to be patient when even Hermione's spells couldn't shield him from the well-aimed egg thrown at his back during lunch, which of course shattered, spilling yolk all through his hair and scattering shell down his back. To make matters worse, and to add to the general feel of misfortune he'd suffered the last few days, it all seemed resistant to being washed out, leaving him with the uncomfortable sensation of raw egg down his back until McGonagall took pity on him and finally spelled it away.

Not for the first time since he'd been cast as Romeo, Harry couldn't wait for it all to end, and he didn't have anything more to do with the Slytherins or Ravenclaws. When all he had to deal with was his own house, and the sort of insanity that was acceptable among the lions.

**A/N: Yeah, I know I took forever on this and I'm sorry for the wait. Even so, I hope you all liked it! Send me some reviews and let me know please! Also, for all the lovely reviews last chapter, thanks to DarkWiccanPrincess, whitelonewolf, Horseygirl7, AlineDaryen, Ibbet, magnusXalec, SunshineAndDaisies, purplerawr, emiliexox, Lady-Umbreon, L., YYWKMN, DMbranolaHP, Argo, Caldonya, Lia-Lily, LyricallyInspired, paintupurple, RisingPhoenix1835, SexySpeedDemon, and If The Bunny Was Dead.**


	25. Chapter 25

It was here. Friday. Opening night. And still the entire school was at odds! Slytherins and Ravenclaws had worked together to perform a tag team on the Gryffindors, who, even with Hermione's brilliance and the twins' mastery of the art of mischief, seemed to be steadily losing ground. After all, they couldn't operate on every front at once and the Hufflepuffs might as well have been Switzerland for all the help they provided. Hermione had no use for neutral parties in her war.

Harry couldn't remember having been so stressed even the morning before his OWLs, and he'd bet that the morning of his NEWTs would feel like a ride in the park after this. Time and again over the last four days, he'd wanted to stand up and scream, let each and every student know what an absolute waste of time all the fighting was, scold the professors for failing to stop it all, even now when it had so clearly gotten out of hand.

But he stifled the urge. All the fighting, all the little hexes and charms sent to torment another student, and yes, even an egg in the back, had forcefully pulled Harry to one conclusion: it wasn't going to stop unless he did something.

And he couldn't make himself do it.

He knew what needed to be done, Lisa had told him more than once. It was for entirely selfish reasons that he couldn't do it. Rejection hurt, he knew that well enough, but he'd never cared for someone as deeply as he realized he did for Draco Malfoy. If he was right, as Lisa's new friendship seemed to prove, then Harry would find himself in for an experience more humiliating and painful than any other to date.

But if he was wrong?

That question, that slight hesitancy, kept Harry from deciding what to do, kept him standing on the sidelines and watching as things deteriorated from bad to worse in only hours. Once or twice a day, he'd become a victim, hit by some stray hex or other, and find himself in the hospital wing listening as Madame Pomfrey complained to herself about teenagers and rivalries and immaturity as a whole.

But Friday, that so important day before opening night, the fighting took on an edge of excitement, as if every individual could somehow tell that tonight and perhaps even the next two nights before the play closed, would be the last of the vicious squabbling. Because after Sunday night, there would be no more need for the students to associate with one another. The Slytherins could return to looking down on the other houses, the Ravenclaws to their books, the Gryffindors to their pride and the Hufflepuffs, well, they could breathe a sigh of relief that they were in no more immediate danger of being forced into an unwanted war.

As Fred and George had made clear the night before, when Harry had asked them why they continued to allow themselves drawn into something that had become about so much more than petty pranks. "Someone's got to win," Fred had insisted, not bothering to lift his eyes from the shells he was carefully crushing beneath a small black stone.

George had nodded his agreement. "And we not ones for quitting, Harry. You know that." He tipped a grin at Harry. "Unless we've got something better to move onto. But it's been decidedly dull around this school up 'til that ruddy play of yours. I'll be sad to see it over." He'd turned his attention back to his papers, reading the instructions and passing to his brother a handful of dried fig leaves, supposedly the most important ingredient in whatever concoction they were cooking up. At any other time, Harry might have been surprised that they'd been allowed to make a potion using the common room's fireplace, but he couldn't work up any shock. After all, the entire common room looked like a base camp, he'd thought with disgust and had retreated to his dorm room, burying his head beneath the pillow with the vague but unreasonable hope that it would all just go away.

But that had been last night. This morning, Harry stared blankly out the window near his bed, overcome by the realization that in only hours he would be performing in front of nearly all of Hogwarts. Somehow, in the rush of preparation and study, making war and hiding from his own doubts, he'd forgotten that. So he sat atop his coverlet, hardly moving and thinking entirely about the strange shapes nervousness took in his belly.

"Alright there, Harry?" Seamus asked around the toothbrush dangling from his mouth, stumbling out of the bathroom as he tried to shove his arms through the uncooperative sleeves of his shirt. Had he been in a better mood, Harry might have laughed at the sight, but he couldn't work up the humor just now. He settled for nodding. "Well, you don't look it," Seamus called over his shoulder as he finally finished dressing. He shoved his hands through his hair, making the pale strands stand on end, then spun on his heel to look at his friend. "You look like you're going to be sick."

Harry pushed himself from his bed, following Seamus out of the dorm and down to the Great Hall. His stomach protested at the thought of breakfast, but at least sitting at the table with a plate of food would give him the appearance of normalcy. "Looks weird out here, doesn't it?" Seamus asked as he claimed a seat, reaching out to load up his plate. Harry nodded his agreement. The Gryffindor table stood mostly empty, not an unusual sight of late. Most of his dorm no longer trusted the food they were given, choosing instead to partake in the snacks the twins swiped from the kitchens. As his gaze wandered over the empty benches, Harry realized he missed the simple pleasure of eating with his friends.

He sighed and pushed his egg across his plate with the end of his fork. It was yet another depressing thought that he'd be better off pushing to the back of his mind, for a while at least.

Backstage was a flurry of excitement. Hermione had helped Harry into his finally finished costume and now, halfway through the play, the tunic seemed unbearably hot, though Harry knew the light fabric couldn't really be to blame. His nervousness about performing was stifling him, and even worse, the twins had claimed seats front and center, a sure sign that they had something planned for the performance.

"You did a great job, Hermione," Harry told his friend. She stood next to him, taking a short break with her clipboard clutched in her hand. She smiled at him and nodded, then turned away, tossing orders to her crew in a stern tone that allowed no arguments, even from a Slytherin. Not that Harry was paying any attention. Draco was on stage, commanding the attention of the entire room with the same charisma he'd displayed time and again in rehearsal. But it seemed wrong somehow, as if something was off and had been since Samson and Gregory's entrance.

It was as though Malfoy no longer cared about the play, was only acting because he'd been committed to it. His performance was still heads above the others on stage, but Harry could tell that it was only because Draco Malfoy refused to not succeed, even if he no longer gave a damn.

It distracted him, not quite enough to mar his acting and Harry carried on. Doing poorly would mean that the time he'd spent with Draco would have been a waste. But it was in the back of his mind, and between scenes his eyes hardly strayed from Draco. The Slytherin was completely ignoring his existence, and anyone else's. Only Pansy Parkinson was allowed into his realm, and even she looked a little worried, going so far as to pat the blond on the back in what Harry might believe was a comforting manner.

He tried several times to speak with Lisa, but she merely shook her head and walked away, or turned a struck up a soft conversation with Cho or Terry. When the time finally came, for Tybalt and Romeo to fight onstage, Harry could feel the anticipation in the room, could hear the gasps in time with each thrust and parry, until Draco fell.

It hurt! His heart hurt, and Harry held back his tears, almost forgetting his final line of the scene as he let Justin push him away. "Oh, I am fortune's fool!"

And he felt it. Everything had gone so wrong. He couldn't fix things with Lisa, and the situation with Draco was no better. Hermione's compliments on his acting went mostly unnoticed, and though Harry heard the sighs from the girls in the audience each time he leaned close to Lisa, it only frustrated him more. He breathed a sigh of relief for the break the next few scenes would offer him.

He would have appreciated talking to someone about now, but the same off-stage rivalry that offered such color to the feuding in the play was still in full swing back stage. Cho glanced at him once or twice, but Harry knew trying to talk with her, or any other Ravenclaw, would be just short of useless. A loud clanging sound echoed from the other side of the stage, and Harry looked up, ignoring the players on the stage, only slightly distracted, to see Hermione quietly but forcefully scolding an embarrassed Dean and Seamus.

Harry shook his head, chuckling softly. It was only then, with Lisa onstage giving voice to all of Juliet's uncertainties, that he looked over and realized that Malfoy was staring at him. And as soon as he did, the blond turned away, so quickly that Harry might wonder if he'd imagined it. But there was Pansy Parkinson, casting strange glances at him over Draco's shoulder.

He didn't think, because thinking only made things worse for him. He didn't plan out what he was going to say, because then it always came out wrong. He only walked around the back of the curtain, quick strides full of a purpose that he couldn't define, because that would mean acknowledging what he was about to do. He took Pansy's place at Draco's side just as the girl was heading back onstage for her scene with Hannah and Terry, the Capulet parents.

"What do you want, Potter?" Draco asked and the coldness of his tone almost made Harry change his mind.

"I need a favor," Harry started but the Slytherin interrupted with a snort that caught him by surprise.

"I believe I've said this before, but you're a Gryffindor so I suppose you need repetition at times. I don't do favors," Draco bit out, hardly bothering to even look at him.

Harry didn't let it bother him though. He couldn't. So he surged on ahead. "Then consider it a continuation of our lessons," he returned, not particularly caring who overheard. "I need more practice."

Draco did look at him then, brow raised in disbelief. Then he turned back to the stage, where Pansy was announcing Juliet's death. "It's a bit late," he remarked dryly.

"I hope not," Harry muttered and Draco shifted back to look at him, brows furrowed together. But Harry wouldn't let him say anything else and reached up to grab the edges of Draco's tunic, pulling him down and pressing their lips together. It was only a few seconds, but Harry's self-consciousness kicked in and he let Draco go, stepping back and clearing his throat a bit. "Right. So... good practice," he mumbled and turned on his heel. That didn't go as he'd hoped, and the opposite side of the stage was looking more inviting by the second.

But he didn't make it. A hand on his arm spun him around and Harry found himself with Draco's arms wrapped around him. "Merlin, finally," were the only words that registered in his mind before Draco Malfoy was kissing him.

It was completely different than any they'd shared before, those short tastes nothing compared to the feel of Draco's mouth on his, tongue begging entrance and Harry parted his lips. And there was that delicious taste, that overpowering flavor that was Malfoy canceling out anything and everything else. Harry didn't hear the gasps from the half of the audience that could actually see them, didn't hear the clatter of Hermione's clipboard hitting the floor across the stage, or the strange sounds of both Terry Boot and Malcolm Baddock stumbling over their lines.

He didn't even notice the obnoxious sound of someone clearing his throat right behind them until Draco lifted his head and sent a death glare Voldemort himself might have been proud of straight at the interloper. "Far be it from me to interrupt two such lovely gentlemen as yourselves from providing me with such a great show," Seamus didn't sound at all intimidated, and Harry turned in Draco's arms with the hopes of rectifying that, "but we do have a little something that needs finishing." He pointed at the stage where the streets of Mantua were waiting for Romeo's lovesick monologue.

"Go on," Draco ordered, but it was lacking the usual coldness and Harry could see a glimpse of a smile at the edges of the boy's mouth. "Hurry up."

Harry smiled then, because he could tell that Draco was as impatient for him to come back as he was. So Harry went out on stage, ignoring Ron's frozen shock as he stood next to a speechless Hermione in the wings, and performed his lines.

Badly. And quickly. He couldn't help himself, or the happiness that rose from every word, no matter how heartbroken Romeo was supposed to be. Because he wanted Draco Malfoy and Draco wanted him just as much. The audience laughed when he took the poison from the Slytherin playing the apothecary and nearly ran off the stage, throwing his arms again around a smiling Draco. They laughed again when he returned to stage, a bit more disheveled and too excited to appear even the slightest intimidating when he told Balthasar that he'd rip him apart if he stayed to watch.

Even Hermione giggled when Harry didn't bother to let Zacharias Smith finish Paris' lines before simply leaning forward and "stabbing" the boy. The Hufflepuff paused for a moment, then shrugged, shouting out "I am slain," and falling to the floor. Harry sped his way through Romeo's death, aware that he was skipping lines. But he couldn't remember them just now anyway and Trelawney would appreciate his 'show must go on attitude', he was sure.

Lisa laughed in is ear when she leaned down, only pretending to kiss him. "Well done, Potter," she whispered before leaning back and grabbing the dagger from his side. "O, happy dagger. This is thy sheath. There rust and let me die." And she fell to Harry's side, both of them struggling not to laugh, because she sounded no more depressed than he had.

It was torture, waiting for the play to end, and as soon as the Prince quoted his last words, "For never was there a tale of more woe, than this of Juliet and her Romeo," and the audience broke into laughter and applause, Lisa shoved Harry from the table. He hit the floor with an "oomph", but scrambled to his feet, heading back for Draco.

And when the cast took the stage, bowing and clapping, the absence of the two male leads was noted and the spotlights adjusted to light up the wing, where a Slytherin stood wrapped around a Gryffindor. Hermione reached out and tapped Ron's chin, pushing closed the mouth that had fallen open. Lisa cheered, giving an uncharacteristic high five to Pansy before jumping down from the stage and barreling into her own boyfriend's chest. Seamus leaped on the table and shouted, "Harry Potter loves Draco Malfoy!", followed quickly by several whoops that ended when he let Dean pull him from the table.

Trelawney and Binns stood at the back of the room, unsure how to handle the situation. But the audience was on their feet and cheering, so Trelawney deemed it a standing ovation and gave herself a pat on the back. She'd known all along that Harry Potter would be the perfect Romeo and now had bragging rights for the next term.

But Harry didn't notice all the excitement. He had an armful of Draco Malfoy, and really, who could think like that?

At least until Fred accidentally activated his and George's potion, sending students running every which way from the stench stronger than any dungbomb could put out. But even then, Draco was laughing and holding his hand like he'd never let go. So Harry figured it was still pretty perfect.

**A/N: Don't go thinking it's the last chapter! I have an epilogue. Yay! Anyway, thanks to Caldonya, Mougumougu, LyricallyInspired, cyiusblack, AlineDaryen, SunshineAndDaisies, Ibbet, purplerawr, Lady-Umbreon, poodlehair92, globalfaerie, Lia-Lily, farwalker, Horseygirl7, PrincessPurity, and paintupurple for the reviews on the last chapter. Also thanks to izma09 for reviewing 17, and bklynlopez for reviewing chapter 1. Thanks everyone!**


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N: It's so sad to say good bye, but welcome to the last chapter of Romeo, Romeo! Thanks to everyone who read and especially to everyone who reviewed. Sorry I've been such a horrible updater, but you guys stuck with me anyway, so thanks for that also! Okay, go and read it now!**

The common room looked quite different only a week later, with the war between the houses over. Once again laughter rose up from the assembled Gryffindors, and the conversations flowed and ebbed through the air comfortingly. George stood in one corner, surrounded by a group of students as he demonstrated the effects of their newest stink potion, and pointed out the new warning labels on the side of each package of Skiving Snackboxes. Fred stood off to the side, sucking lightly on the tip of his sugar quill between orders. Near the fireplace, Ron sat across a table from Hermione, examining the wizard's chess table between them as thoroughly as Napoleon might have a map of Waterloo. Dean had claimed the sofa nearby, a sketchbook balanced on the arm as his pencil made rapid movements across the paper, neither item so strange to the other wizards as to draw attention anymore.

If one stood on the staircase from the boys' dorm and just looked for a few moments, as Harry was now, it would all seem perfectly normal. But there were differences, subtle or otherwise, and Harry smiled as he let his gaze wander around the warmly colored room.

Seamus was stretched out on the sofa, his head pillowed in Dean's lap as he grinned and waved his arms animatedly, going on about something or other that had happened in his never boring day, and Dean nodded with a small smile, though anyone could tell he was only half listening. Lavender had taken over a portion of the room and female Gryffindors of all years lined up for a free makeover, taking the fashion advice and hearty gossip that came with spending any amount of time in the chatty girl's presence.

The room erupted into a wave of greetings as Ginny and Lee came through the portrait hole, engaged in an argument over which of them would date Blaise Zabini. It ended quickly when Seamus shouted from across the room in no uncertain terms that, lacking the proper equipment, Ginny couldn't even hope to hold Blaise's attention long enough to ask the boy out for a butterbeer, much less a date. Lee, mature as ever, stuck his tongue out at the red-head.

And perhaps best of all, Hermione was sitting back victoriously in her chair as Ron stared dumbfounded at the chess table, where his pieces lay in ruin as he mentally reviewed the game in his head. "Again!" he demanded, his face turning the same brilliant shade as his hair as he displayed that unique brand of stubbornness that only a Gryffindor could possess. Even a Hufflepuff would have been wise enough to accept defeat after the first thirty-two losses. Hermione shrugged and helped to repair his pieces before setting back up. She threw Harry a grin from across the room, which Harry returned. Who could begrudge the girl her victory? She was the only person to ever beat Ron at Wizard's Chess after all.

Harry began to make his way through the groups of students to the fireplace, glancing down at the sketch Dean had been working on. He smiled and Dean looked up at him, holding a finger to his lips. Harry nodded his understanding. It was obvious that Dean had been working for some time on the drawing of Seamus in his Mercutio costume, if the detail was anything to go by, and if he wanted to keep it to himself, who was Harry to insist otherwise? He stood by and watched a few minutes of Ron and Hermione's game. It didn't take even that long for him to know that Ron was going to lose once again. His angry flush was still on his face, and he ran his hand through his hair again and again, a sure tell that his confidence was failing.

"Hey, Harry, don't you have a date?" Seamus paused his story long enough to remind him. As if he would have forgotten. But Harry grinned at him and nodded his head. He'd spent so long worried about his friends and what they'd think of his being in love with another guy, and a Malfoy to boot, that he was still getting used to the idea that they were perfectly okay with it.

"We just want you to be happy, Harry," Hermione had told him a few days ago. "And it' s obvious that you are."

Ron had wrinkled his nose with disgust. "Though how you can be happy with that snobbish prick is beyond me." Harry had laughed, because years of animosity were hard to overcome, and because Ron just didn't know what he did.

Seamus had simply offered advice that made Dean blush, Ron look sick, and Harry's ears burn before Hermione managed to stifle the boy's mouth under a pillow. "Not appropriate in front of a lady, Finnegan," she'd exclaimed, and only removed the pillow when Dean pointed out that she was coming awfully close to suffocating the boy.

Waving to his friends, a gesture that went mostly unnoticed, Harry moved toward the portrait hole, dodging a small group of puffskeins and the two first year girls that chased after them. Unfortunately, the move put him right in the path of the Creevey brothers who called out "Hello, Harry," so in tune that they could have, and probably should have, been twins and the too bright flash of a pair of cameras going off.

Harry cursed under his breath. "Hello, Colin. Hello, Dennis," he intoned, though he wasn't sure they were even still there, and he pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. It didn't stop the multi-colored spots from flickering across his line of sight and Harry sighed as he reached out and felt his way through the portrait hole. He managed to push the portrait open without incident and was silently congratulating himself when he tripped and fell out the entrance.

He knew a moment of panic and flung his arms out in a desperate attempt to regain his balance. It was an unnecessary move and Harry smiled as he recognized the arms that caught him about the waist, saving him from a surely painful collision with the stone floor of the hallway. "The little Creevey or the even littler one?" Draco asked softly in his ear as he helped Harry stand upright, and Harry could hear the smile even if it was still a little difficult to see it.

"Both," he replied and grinned when he felt Draco's hand slide down his arm to twine their fingers together. He let Draco lead him along silently for a few moments, but there was a question he'd been longing to ask, and Harry felt that the time had finally come for him to put it into words. "Draco,' he started and grimaced a bit at the weakness in his voice. This was what Malfoy did to him! But Draco was watching him, gray eyes warm with what Harry could recognize as affection and he smiled. "When the twins played that truth prank on your house, you said there were things you needed to keep secret."

Draco's hand on his tightened, and Harry was surprised when the other boy stumbled slightly. When he looked up, Draco was focusing straight ahead. He knew what the sudden tenseness meant, but he couldn't believe it! Draco Malfoy was visibly nervous. Well, now he just had to ask, didn't he? "What would you have said, you know, if someone had said toffee to you?" And there it was, almost invisible in the dim light put off by the torch glowing softly a few feet away, high on his cheeks, just the faintest blush.

"None of your damn business," Draco answered quickly, and turned his head away.

But it was too late. Harry had seen enough for his curiosity to kick in and he grinned. "Come on, Draco. Toffee. Toffee! Please?" he pleaded teasingly, and pulled at Draco's arm. He saw the taller boy roll his eyes, the only warning he got before he was pushed against the wall and Malfoy's mouth pressed against his. It was delicious and warm, vanilla and mint, and there was no way he'd let it distract him, no matter how fuzzy his thoughts were becoming! He pushed at Draco's chest, pulling away. "No fair, Draco," he protested, but it didn't stop the barrage of kisses his Slytherin pressed to his cheeks and neck. "I said toffee, and please! That should get me something. At least a hint."

"No talking," Draco whispered and turned Harry's face to him, "unless it's to tell me how amazing I am."

"But…" Harry was cut off when Draco kissed him again, running his tongue over the seam of Harry's lips before pushing past them. And Harry welcomed it, the firm warmth that stroked inside his mouth. It was everything that was Draco, hard and hot and possessive. He let his eyes close, resting his hands on Draco's hips and pulling him closer as he leaned back against the wall. Harry could feel the other's pleasure as he responded, flicking the tip of his own tongue to meet Draco's. Long fingers curled in his hair, and an arm circled his waist tightly.

Then Draco pulled away, and Harry followed, his eyes flying open at the soft husky chuckle the move inspired in his partner. Draco dropped his forehead to Harry's, still smiling as he confessed, "I love you, Harry Potter."

Warmth spread through Harry's entire being and his heart felt so light he was sure it would have flown away if it could be free from his chest. He smiled, because he couldn't help it, and reached up to frame Draco's face with his hands, pressing their lips tightly together, because he couldn't help that either. He leaned back, only the slightest, and rested his head on Draco's shoulder. "Was that your secret?"

He didn't have to see to know that Draco was rolling his eyes. It was clear by the annoyed sigh that came so close to his ear. The Slytherin took a step back then turned on his heel and began to stride towards the staircase. Even so much as a week ago, Harry would have suspected that the other teen was angry, but now, with his eyes on his love, Harry could tell Draco was only teasing him. So he followed, jogging a bit to catch up, until he walked in step with the blond. "So when will you tell me?" he asked, finally breaking the silence a few moments later.

Draco shook his head, but smiled and threw an arm over Harry's shoulder. It wasn't the answer he wanted, but the arm resting heavily on his shoulder would be enough, for now. Besides, he was too brilliantly happy to pursue this topic any further, especially when he knew the room of requirement to be just down the next flight of stairs and to the left. If he figured it just right, Draco would be in for a good surprise.

**A/N: And that's all. Thanks to SunshineAndDaisies, Ibbet, Slytherin Hybrid, AnimeFreak2468, farwalker, AlineDaryen, DarkWiccanPrincess, purplerawr, paintupurple, LyricallyInspired, HDMmad, Lady-Umbreon, TheSlashBunny, RebeccaMarieCullen, Caldonya, PrincessPurity, dress up romance xx, nowle, Twinfetish, and narubleone for the lovely reviews! Again, thanks for reading and bye, everyone!**


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